Jurassic Park: DX
by segisaurus
Summary: The dinosaurs of InGen have long been seperated from humanity by law, isolated from world. But now, trouble is brewing. It's up to InGen, and a small team of skilled scientists, to save the world.
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

The last few centuries have seen a great influx within the world of knowledge possessed by man, in the form of science. Humankind has watched as its own collective intelligence has gone from strength to strength, until now we find ourselves quadrupling all that we know every decade. Ever since the first scientists set out to validate the biblical implications that so many blindly followed – funded by the very religious body that they would one day oppose and betray -, they have been blessed and cursed with curiosity. So much so that they soon discovered that everything that they had been led to believe, everything that they had used as a ground on which to build upon was false. Of course, this was seen as treachery of the worst kind by the rest of the world. These scientists were persecuted, and soon learned to dare not speak out, for fear of being burned at the stake. But still they persisted, quietly. And as time progressed, and the evidence mounted, they became bolder. Soon the world grew to accept it; that at least some of these "discoveries" must be somewhat true.

Much later, technology became the prime focus of thousands. Advancements became expediential, growing faster and faster. We went from the industrial revolution to the atomic bomb in a few hundred years, to the computer in only a few decades, and then to Biotechnology, where we find ourselves now. All of which bear the mark of incredible achievement, of power, and of ignorance. For although all scientists believed themselves to working for the benefit of all mankind, they ignored unpleasant details, such as their leftovers. The result of the Manhattan project, which was celebrated by millions, was the doom for hundreds of thousands of others. Nuclear test sites decimated the ecosystem of Indonesian islands on which they were built, and Nevada's wasteland was adorned with the craters of others. Astronauts left their unwanted scraps on the surface of the moon. Scientists did not fear these things, did not hide them, nor did they take responsibility for them. They enjoyed the adverse effect that they had on the natural world; for there was nobody overseeing their development. No rules; no consequence. Everybody worked for themselves.

Understanding of the universe has been the sole venture of a faction of scientists for generations; the astronomers. They have been key players in the act of bringing about the fall of the undeniable truth that the bible had spawned for so many people. Their patience has paid off, as they stared through their telescopes, night after night. Technology may have advanced, but principles have remained the same. Now the mysteries of the planet and its history have been unravelled; the Earth is no longer believed to be at the centre of the universe. In fact it is widely believed that we are in fact an insignificant speck in a vast sea; like a grain of sand on a mile long beach. The theory of the big bang has explained the creation of all matter; replacing the theory of Creation for millions. It is no longer believed by many that everything that was, is, and will be was spawned spontaneously by an all power deity. The universe was thought to be expanding, cooling, and evolving. A creature in its own right.

Since the first dusty bones were excavated from the ground by scientists many hundreds of years ago, it was clear that they were different. But it was a long time before they were accepted by the community at large to be bones from creatures that no longer walked the Earth. Extinction was thought to be impossible for centuries, as God created all animals to fulfil a purpose on Earth, and therefore none of them could ever disappear. Yet, as time went on, and other theories were shot down, it became clear that this was the only explanation. After this the field of Palaeontology has emerged swiftly. Yet, hundred million year old dusty bones cannot explain their behaviour during life, or why they no longer roam the planet. The discovery of the KT boundary has introduced the idea that an extra planetary object may have impacted the Earth around 65 million years ago; the fall of the dinosaurs. By now, after the discovery of so many species of extinct animals, it is clear that extinction has been a continuous even, happening throughout history. Virtually all, approximately 99.9 of every species that has ever lived on Earth is now gone forever. But Humanities inherent greed thinks otherwise.

The notion of genetic replication has been considered feasible for many decades within the scientific community during the 20th century. The opportunity to clone new organs for hospitalized patients, the cure for all dysfunctional diseases; heart disease, kidney failure and cancer. The possibility to increase the population of livestock or crops by tenfold, the chance to end world hunger. To make organisms more durable, more sophisticated. If this technology could be properly harnessed then anything would be possible. In the future parents could possibly sit down with a professional, and design their very own baby to their specification. While this may seem like a joke to many, it is far from that, it is only the beginning.

Yet nobody would have believed that the first successful representation of mass cloning would be in the form of the re-creation of the Mesozoic Era. The secretive operations performed by International Genetic Technologies Inc of Palto Alto took place in a remote corner of Central America. The capitalist CEO John Hammond theorized that millions of years ago ancient insects would have bitten ancient wildlife, just as they do today. These insects would have then landed on the branches of trees and become trapped in their sticky sap, thus preserving the DNA within the blood that the insect obtained. All that Hammond has to do was to find this tree sap, which when hardened was known as amber. Then he could burrow into the insects bowels and extract the ancient DNA. When this proved successful he created InGen and immediately began stockpiling this material. Soon he owned the largest private stockpile of amber on Earth. After years of research successful cloning was achieved and ancient animals walked the Earth for the first time in millions of years; Dinosaurs. As an amazing achievement this was it wasn't necessarily a cure for all disease as everybody has hoped. As a means to fund this technology Hammond created a kind of amusement park where visitors could gawp over the towering creatures, paying hundreds, even thousands of dollars per person. People were to be shown glistening laboratories where tiny dinosaurs poked through their eggs. But the fact was that all new technologies are far from perfect, yields are extremely low. Hammond would have to clone thousands of embryos to create one live birth. For this he created another complex in a different location less than 100 miles from his initial location. Here he was free to experiment away from the public eye, scrutiny and law. After a devastating accident at his amusement park; Isla Nublar during a VIP visit InGen's profits plummeted. It was a freak accident, or at least, this is what Hammond insisted. He tried everything he knew to get another chance. If only he could recreate his park, somewhere else, he would do it better, safer. But the incident proved to be too much for the company investors, who began backing out only a few months later. InGen filed for chapter 11 protection, Isla Nublar was destroyed and the entire incident was swept under the carpet by the Costa Rican government, never to be discovered by the world at large. But, four years later an incident in San Diego forced Hammond to come clean. Site B was revealed to hold living dinosaurs. To protect these miracles of science the island was protected and isolated by law. The island was immediately famous worldwide, and the Costa Rican Department of Biological Reserves had their hands full for years, fending off rich tourists willing to pay massive sums of money to fund illegal operations.

John Hammond died on 28th November 2002, and passed his company on to his Grandson, Tim Murphy. The company had been in disarray for years, and Tim had to work for years to organise himself, and to begin making profits once more. He did his best to distance himself from his Grandfather's mistake, concentrating on generating useful products. But over time, carcasses began to wash up along the west coasts of Central America. Nobody could ever explain what they were, as most were disfigured beyond recognition. Most reports were only fleeting glimpses gathered by tourists, and there never seemed to be official investigations into the matters. What's more was the fact that these carcasses almost always disappeared. It was an unpleasant smudge on the day-to-day activities of the world. But it was widely believed to be no cause for concern, nor was it ever thought to be connected to the InGen Island. It was just another myth.Yet, Hammond never revealed all of his secrets to the world. The dinosaur population that he had spawned had somehow developed a deadly disease, dramatically decreasing their lifetimes. His scientists worked for years to solve the problem, and a cure was well on the way to being synthesized when the bottom fell out. This mysterious disease was named DX. While it was in no way an imminent threat to human life, and scientists argued that diseases could not be contracted from lizards, there was a risk that it could mutate. And Dinosaurs did not fit into any existing category of living animals, rendering conventional assumptions useless. Before he died, Hammond informed Tim of these dangers, should the need for intervention ever arise.

It was merely a matter of time.


	2. Prologue

**Prologue**

Dr. Sharp sighed as he stared out of the window at the raging thunderstorm that had overtaken the small hospital. It had been raining relentlessly for several hours, the sound of raindrops hammering against the rooftops reverberated throughout the facility as the sun set. Lightening cracked in the distance, momentarily illuminating the dense jungle of the Cabo Blanco Biological reserve to the south. When sharp had arrived in Costa Rica two weeks ago he had been looking forward to helping the local people. But he hadn't anticipated this, he had expected non-stop sunshine. But had he done his homework he would have known that storms were frequent at his time of year in the tropics. He clicked his pen out of boredom in the relative gloom of his office. The door opened behind him and Roberto walked in, his enthusiastic assistant fresh out of Medical School.

"Excuse me Dr. Sharp, I'm leaving for the night. Martha is tending to Ms. Gillian", said Roberto from the doorway. Martha was the local midwife and Ms. Gillian was overdue by almost a week now. Her contractions had started that morning.

"Ok Roberto, see you in the morning", said Sharp with a forced smile.

"Goodnight Doctor", breathed Roberto and closed the door.

Sharp listened distantly as Roberto's footsteps died away, turning back to the window. He hated night shifts; it was always boring as hell. Lightning cracked again, illuminating Roberto's figure running out into the rain with his arm shielding his head.

Half an hour passed uneventfully. Eventually Sharp got up to go and get another coffee when something caught his eye. A pair of lights had appeared in the distance between the trees; headlights. They were hardly visible through the storm, but they were definitely there. He squinted through his spectacles. The lights steadily grew stronger, now only a few hundred meters away. But now they appeared to be swerving erratically. Slowly the drone of an engine came to his attention, roaring under great strain. It was heading directly for the hospital at a dangerous speed, considering the treacherous conditions. The vehicle did not slow as it approached the building, until it was lit by the hospital's halogen lampposts. It was an open top truck, the reliable type of off-road vehicles. Inside, the driver frantically threw on the brakes; the truck was sent skidding through the mud for several meters. As it came to a screeching halt the driver jumped out and ran to the rear of the vehicle where he dragged out a bedraggled limp figure, looking heavy and lifeless. It was a man. Throwing the man over his back, the driver slowly trudged towards the entrance. Sharp ran to his phone and picked it up.

"Tara we have a patient coming in, get a stretcher and meet me in the reception", he shouted and grabbed his stethoscope as he ran for the door.

"Help! I need help here!" shouted Mike Bakker as he burst through the doors of the hospital. Dr. Sharp came running down the hallway with Tara and a stretcher in tow.

"What's the situation?" asked Sharp.

"This guy needs help, I found him unconscious on a beach and he started swelling up", panted Mike as he helped Sharp and Tara heft the man onto the stretcher.

The man was soaked as much as Mike from the long drive in the storm; he was shivering from the onset of hypothermia. His eyes fluttered for an instant, he gave a guttural groan and then with a twitch he fell unconscious once more.

"Let's get him upstairs, quickly please!" said Sharp as they pushed the stretcher towards the lift.

"Who are you, are you a relative?" he asked.

"Erm no, my name is Mike Bakker, I'm not related. I found him staggering on the beach around 20 miles away in the reserve."

"How long ago?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps an hour."

"Did anything bite him?" Sharp asked with a hint of urgency.

"I didn't see; his footprints stretched quite a long way."

"Ok, please wait in the reception while we take care of this", said Sharp as they entered the lift.

Mike nodded silently and began to walk slowly back towards the entrance, the events that had just transpired finally unraveling in his mind. He had found the man staggering up the beach shortly before it began raining; the storm clouds were beginning to grow angry. He had packed up and was driving along the beach front, heading towards the makeshift track that headed inland. It was then that a staggering figure had appeared on the horizon. By the time Mike had reached the man he had fallen in the sand and was muttering to himself, his face already had red patches forming. Mike had crouched beside him and attempted to rouse him. The man became conscious for a moment, he pulled Mike close to him and whispered "The ca...cam...camera".

He had pushed a small disposable camera into Mike's hands before his eyes rolled back into his skull and he collapsed. The drive back had been one of the most frightening experiences of his life. Mike had driven at almost insane speeds, trying to remember the location of the hospital while navigating the rough terrain. The man was shouting from the pain in the back of his truck and the red swelling spread over his body. What was happening to him was beyond anything Mike had ever seen. What could have happened that caused this? And what was so significant about that camera that could have taken priority in such a situation? Now in the reception Mike sat down and waited for how it turned out.

"Doctor his pulse is getting weak," Tara said, tapping the button on the lift repeatedly with one hand, and keeping two fingers on the man's neck with the other. Such situations were never anticipated during the night, this hospital had opened only months ago and wasn't yet fully staffed.

"Tara, I need you to get to my office and call Roberto, get him in here as soon as possible", said Sharp.

"But, Doctor, won't he be asleep by now?" she asked anxiously.

"Then you have to wake him!"

Tara nodded. Her eyes were darting around. The doors of the lift finally re-opened and Sharp steered the stretcher towards the new surgery theater. The man was now beginning to shake violently, a constant guttural shriek emanating from his throat.

"Oh god", sighed Sharp. "Tara, move it!" It was assumed that sharp would be able to deal with any problem that may arise within the local population, but this was a serious medical emergency. Nobody had yet come in with a problem from the reserve. However, he had heard rumors of some mysterious green lizards that had bitten villagers all over this area, igniting many new forms of folklore.

Sharp ran the stretcher into the theater and grabbed his pen light, shining it into the man's eyes to check his reflexes. He was worried by the extent that his pupils had dilated, and his eyes were extremely bloodshot, almost bulging from the pressure building from the swelling in his head. The red patches had now spread through most of his body. As Sharp shone the light into the man's eye there was only a slight contraction of his iris. This man was in serious trouble, yet Sharp still had absolutely no idea what had happened. He was going to find it very difficult to help this man if he didn't know what was wrong with him. To Sharp it looked like an allergic reaction of some kind.

The man was now beginning to have trouble breathing, his chest was heaving with each breath. The air rasped as it entered his lungs, his airways were closing.

"God damn it!" grated Sharp as he opened the man's mouth the check for obstructions. Nothing. Roberto came running into the room, his hair matted down from running through the rain, wearing a raincoat over his pajamas. He was panting heavily and he bent over for a second to catch a breath.

"I came over as soon as Tara called me", he managed to say between ragged gasps. Sharp breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank god, some good news. Get over here and help me hook up the heart monitor", he said. Roberto hurried over and connected the leads to the man's chest. The room was filled with a steady electronic beeping. The man's heart was already beating at twice its normal rate, his blood pressure was falling. Suddenly he gave a high pitched scream and every muscle in his body tightened, his back arching off of the stretcher. The electronic beeping of the heart monitor was becoming faster by the second; a trickle of blood began to ooze from the man's left nostril.

"He's hemorrhaging!" Sharp said "Get get him on his side!". He and Roberto attempted to roll the man, but he began thrashing around and continued to scream in pain.

"Get me some Valium", said Sharp. By now they both knew that there was little that they could do for the man with such limited information on his condition, resources and manpower. All that they could do was to try and make him more comfortable. As Roberto injected the Valium the man hardly had enough energy to make more than a quiet whimper. Roberto and Sharp shared a look of complete helplessness. With a final jerk the man lay still and the electronic beep that had filled the room was replaced by a single constant ringing; the man's heart had stopped.

"Doctor, should I?" Roberto asked, glancing towards the defibrillator a few metres away. But he already knew that it was too late, there was nothing that they could do, he was gone. Sharp shook his head and clicked off the heart monitor.

"Time of death; one-thirty am," he murmured.

Mike Bakker sat in the waiting room with the now rusting disposable camera in his hands, clutching to it for support. He had to know what had happened; they had whisked him away around ten minutes before. It was then that a tall man with graying hair entered the room, his shoulders slumped. He approached Mike and extended his hand in greeting.

"Hello Mr. Bakker, I'm Dr.Sharp," he said. Mike stood with a smile spreading across his face.

"Hey Doc, how did it go?" he asked, but by the look on Sharp's face he knew that it couldn't be good.

"We did everything that we could, but I'm afraid that he didn't make it."

Mike put his hands over his face and sat down.

"We need to know what happened to this man. Now, were they any animals or plant spores around him when you came across him?" Sharp asked.

Bakker shook his head, "No, I told you. He had staggered quite a long way when I found him. Anything could have happened," he said.

"We're going to run some tests on his blood work to see if that gives us any clues," said Sharp. He left Mike alone in the reception. Mike sat for a moment considering what he had just been told as he clutched the camera. Then something occurred to him. The camera. There must be something about it for that man to put that over everything else. Mike headed for the door, towards his truck.

The next morning Dr.Sharp walked into the hospital with a grim look on his face. After what had happened last night he had called his friend in San Jose; Dr. John Sampson, one of the leading scientists on diseases in Central America. Sampson had said that never had something such as this been reported. He said that it was unusual that the symptoms had developed so fast, also the nature of these symptoms in themselves were almost unheard of occurring in sequence. He noted that it was more than likely that this was some kind of metabolic reaction to some form of previously undiscovered toxin. Sharp had then taken blood samples from the deceased man and sent them for testing at a local university. He had then packed up and headed for home at the end of his shift, yet he found himself lying awake and unable to sleep, turning over the events in his mind. After only half an hour of tossing and turning and he found himself up again and began searching for previous occurrences of symptoms that the man had suffered. After several hours he had made an unnerving discovery. A decade ago there were several reports of unexplained deaths in the area lying around the Cabo Blanco reserve. These reports also coincided with the appearances of carcasses of strange lizard-like creatures washing up on the beaches. According to some accounts the creatures disappeared after the encounters. But most of the information that Sharp found was vague and some had been erased. And all of the accounts were reported within a few years. Apparently nobody had found any more of these carcasses for a long time. Sharp could only hope that the man hadn't stumbled across one.

Now Sharp entered his office to find a small package lying on his desk. A confused expression crossed his face and he walked over to the children's ward, where Roberto was inspecting a small girl who had come in earlier that morning complaining of abdominal swelling and severe headaches.

"Roberto, when did that package on my desk arrive?" he asked.

"Erm, about an hour ago Doctor", said Roberto distantly, concentrating on the infant.

"Right. Any idea what it is?"

"Yeah, it's the results from the blood samples that you sent to the university", Roberto answered.

"Wow, that was fast."

"Yeah, I said it was urgent", murmured Roberto, shining a light down the girl's throat.

Sharp broke the seal on the brown envelope and pulled out a stack of papers. He leafed through and found the summary, pulling on his spectacles. The man's blood contained elevated levels of Serotonin, common in most poisons of lizards. Yet there were no evident bite marks on his body. But, during a post postmortem analysis he had found a small slashing abrasion on the man's index finger. Also, the white blood cell count was severely diminished. Whatever killed that man was very strange indeed. Sharp frowned and turned towards the door.

Mike Bakker drove his truck furiously down the dirt track, cursing with frustration as the sun began to rise. He pushed the engine to its limits, but the rough terrain threatened to snap the axle as he rocketed over potholes. Driving was taking all of his concentration. The previous night he had rushed out of the hospital and had headed for the nearest place where the film from the disposable camera could be developed. Unfortunately Cabo Blanco was in the middle of nowhere, the local village was fairly privative; providing only the essentials. He traveled north through the night towards Villarreal, where his hotel was. It was the closest place that he knew would have the necessary facilities. He had been in Costa Rica for only a few days and didn't want to go hunting around. God knows how long that would've taken. He had been lucky enough to find a small shop that remained open twenty four hours a day, which had a film developing section. By then it the sun had almost started to rise, and Mike was tired as hell. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when the clerk showed him the results of the developing process. His jaw had dropped as he picked up one of the images, his hands began to shake. The clerk had freaked out and started shouting in his native language. Mike had ignored him and ran towards his truck with the first image that he could grab, leaving the clerk shrieking in the shop. His fingers had fumbled with the ignition, and then he had roared off. He had to get back to the hospital.

Now the image sat on the passenger seat beside him, fluttering from the wind that rushed in through the open top roof. Mike glanced at it uneasily, shivering as the reality of what he was seeing began to sink in. He hadn't slept now for over thirty six hours, and keeping his eyes open was becoming increasingly difficult, which was now proving to be dangerous. Sometimes he swerved dangerously close to the jungle that lined the edge of the road and now through the trees he could see that the jungle only continued for a few meters until the floor disappeared. He was driving along a cliff edge. Mike wiped the sweat from his forehead and gripped the steering wheel harder. In his frenzied state he hadn't noticed the black Suburban that had been following him distantly. It had been gaining on him over the last few minutes, but Mike remained oblivious until it was only ten feet behind. He glanced into his rear view mirror at the large vehicle creeping up behind him. Assuming that the driver wanted to pass Mike pulled slightly to the side to make room for the Suburban on the slim road. The car sped up behind him, but instead of moving over to the side it kept its course behind him. Mike frowned, trying to keep his truck on the road so close to the jungle. The Suburban's engine roared suddenly and it slammed into the rear left corner of Mike's truck. The truck screeched forward and banked helplessly as the tires began to lose traction. Mike yelled in surprise as the tires gave out and the truck span in a circle, still sliding forwards at dangerous speeds. Inside Mike span the steering wheel in the opposite direction desperately but he already knew it was too late. The truck skidded across to the side of the road, towards the jungle. The Suburban carried on past the truck as if nothing had happened. Mike gave up on trying to regain control of the vehicle and braced for impact. The impact was bone shattering. The front bumper struck the trunk of a large tree and was crumpled as if tin foil and an overhanging branch cracked the windshield, forming a spider web pattern and turned the glass opaque. Mike was thrown against the roof of the truck and his mouth filled with blood as the truck plunged into the foliage. Another tree loomed out of the sea of greenery and slammed into the driver's door, crumpling it in on him and breaking off the top hinge. This caused the truck to tip over onto its side and it began to roll. Mike's screams could barely be heard over the crunching of metal all around him. The truck finally came to a sudden stop, hanging on two wheels. Mike sat wild eyed for a few seconds then looked out of the window. His heart skipped a beat. He whimpered quietly and closed his eyes, trying desperately not to move. The truck was hanging suspended over the edge of the cliff, creaking loudly from the wind in the sudden silence. Looking up Mike saw that it was two vines that had snared around the axle which were preventing the truck from falling several hundred feet onto the sharp rocks below.

"Oh god, please," he cried hoarsely.

He began hyperventilating and desperately crawled over to the passenger seat, crumpling the image carelessly, trying to get out of the window. The truck gave a load creek and he heard a load twang! He looked up saw that one of the vines had snapped, the other was now straining, slowly stretching out. It too would snap in mere seconds. Mike shouted wordlessly in surprise and dived for the window. With a final load crack the truck fell freely into space, throwing Mike back into the truck. He screamed at the top of his lungs as the truck plummeted and the ground rushed up towards him.

Dr.Sharp stood motionless at the base of the cliff, stunned. In front of him were the charred remains of Mike Bakker's truck, a rescue and salvage team clambering over the wreckage. The accident had been reported by a passing tourist yacht earlier in the day, but it had taken several hours for the authorities to arrive. Sharp had received a call requesting him to come down, but he would have never expected this. A dark skinned man bearing a bushy mustache approached him, clambering over the sharp rocks.

"Dr.Sharp?" the man asked.

"Yeah, that's me," Sharp murmured.

"I'm Chief Allen, I'm in charge here," said the man.

"What the hell happened?" breathed Sharp, not taking his eyes off of the truck.

"As far as we can tell he must've been driving too fast and lost steering as he came around a corner. Although, we did find fragments of black residue of the rear bumper."

Sharp watched as several men walked past them carrying a field stretcher with a black tarpaulin draped over it, the shape of a body bulging underneath. He closed his eyes tightly for a second, trying to eliminate the disturbing mental image that had just appeared in his mind. He took a deep breath and turned to Allen.

"Why did you call me?" asked Sharp, suddenly confused.

Allen's eyes darted away for a moment; Sharp sensed that he felt uneasy. Allen steered Sharp away from the wreckage and took him to one side, away from the rest of the salvage crew.

"When we searched the surrounding area, we found this," Allen whispered.

He handed Sharp a small piece of paper, the edges burned and curled. Written on it was a scribbled message that had been burned off. It read "To...delive...Dr.Sharp...cam...ults". Sharp frowned at the message, as it was it made no sense.

"I saw your name and made some phone calls to some friends, turns out you were only a few miles away," said Allen.

"Why would he drive so fast? I didn't even know where he went last night." It made no sense.

"So you know who he is?" asked Allen.

"Not well. His name is Mike Bakker; he brought a patient in last night during the storm."

"Well, thank you for your cooperation, Sir. We'll take it from here," called Allen clearly, so that everybody would hear. He clapped Sharp on the shoulder, and as he passed he whispered discreetly into Sharp's ear, "Turn it over."

He left Sharp standing there, alone. He turned over the piece of paper. On the other side was the remains of what had to have been a photograph printout. It struck him; the camera. That's why he was in such a hurry. Sharp's eyes widened as he examined the image. In fuzzy light the image showed a cold, dead eye. And teeth. A dragon like creature. But Sharp knew what it was. He looked up. Catching Chief Allen's eye from a distance, they shared a look. Sharp nodded, and then turned to run up the beach.

It had begun.


	3. Chapter 1: Guiterrez

Chapter One

**Guitterrez**

Martin Guitterrez walked briskly through the open doors of the Medical Research Centre of San José. A large open reception met his eyes, the marble floors gleaming. His secretary sat behind her large desk a few meters from the doorway, looking up at him as he entered and beckoning him over. Martin had the impression that she had been waiting for him.

"Dr. Guitterrez, there are two nice men from the San Jose Police Department here to see you, they say it's urgent", she said in a feigned airy voice.

Martin frowned. What in the hell would bring two inspectors to see the Head of Medical Research? A twinge of suspicion formed in the back of his head, but he ignored it.

"Where are they?" he asked in the most casual voice he could muster.

"I told them to wait in your office", she answered and turned away, shuffling a stack of papers unnecessarily. He sensed that she was urgent to retreat from the situation. Martin gave a small shrug and headed for the staircase. Taking the steps two at a time, he ran up to the second floor and hurried along the corridor. He passed several cubicles bearing a single occupant each, the sounds of ringing telephones and rustled paper filling his ears. He turned a corner and approached the large oak door which bore his name in gold lettering. Pulling it open he found two heavyset men dressed in black suits and ties seated in two tattered armchairs. Their appearance was rather comical to Guitterrez; they looked as though they were ready to audition for the next Men in Black. Hiding a smile, Martin entered his large office. A long desk took up the majority of space, the rest taken up by a bank of filing cabinets. Stacks of papers and mugs of coffee littered all but a small space which had a plaque with his name centered in it. The two men stood, now he noticed that one was considerably shorter than the other.

"Dr. Martin Guitterrez?" asked the taller man in a deep voice, extending his hand.

"Er- Yeah", answered Marty, shaking the inspector's hand.

"We'd like to ask a few questions if you don't mind", said the inspector, gesturing towards the desk.

"Sure."

Martin crossed the room and sat in his chair, looking expectantly at them, his expression quizzical. The two men reseated themselves slowly, the taller man staring at Martin with apparent suspicion. The shorter man produced a large brown envelope from his inner pocket and unfastened the rubber strap. He pulled out a large photograph and threw it onto the desk.

"Do you recognize this man?" the inspector asked.

Martin looked down at the image, which showed a stocky man with graying hair wearing a white lab coat. He considered for a moment before shaking his head. The larger inspector's eyes narrowed, but he made no comment. The shorter man took out another image and threw it on top of the last one.

"What about this man?" he asked.

This one showed a tall man in his mid thirties. Again, Guitterrez shook his head. He stared fixatedly at the image, the eyes of the taller man hadn't left him since he had entered the office and Martin was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"The first man there is named Dr. Michael Sharp", the shorter man said, "Have you heard of him?"

Martin shook his head once more. His mind was working furiously to work out what any of this had to do with him.

"The second man is Mike Bakker, a tourist. He was killed in an accident two days ago", the inspector continued, "Did you know him?"

"Nope."

Martin could tell that both of the men were watching him closely to see any reaction that he might show.

"You haven't received any unusual telephone calls?"

"No."

"Nothing unusual at all?"

"_No_", said Martin, rather more defiantly than he meant to.

The shorter man picked up the pictures and stacked them neatly in a little pile, tapping them on the table lightly. Calmly, he slipped them back into their brown envelope and stowed it in his pocket. Then, very slowly, he leaned towards Martin and spoke in a hushed voice.

"If you receive anything you consider significant, contact us immediately."

He produced a small contact card with a phone number scribbled on the bottom. Martin took it and stuffed it into the pocket and nodded, despite the fact that he had no intention of contacting them at all. Then the short man spoke again.

"You are aware of the InGen islands?"

Martin smiled despite himself.

"Who doesn't?" he answered.

Both men seemed completely unabashed by this answer.

"You are also aware that you signed a non disclosure agreement with InGen and the Costa Rican government over a decade ago?"

Guitterrez's face fell. Only a few select people knew about such an agreement. He merely nodded silently and looked at them both with mingled surprise and agitation. The men stared at him for a moment and Guitterrez wandered whether they were going to attack him, but the tall man merely spoke in a calm, harsh voice.

"You would do well to remember this agreement".

Both of the men stood abruptly and moved towards the door. The tall man paused with his hand on the door handle and turned slowly to look at Guitterrez.

"We'll be seeing each other very soon, I expect."

His voice had become sharper, more sinister. Martin had the feeling that it was a warning, almost threatening. Without another word they both swept from the room and snapped the door shut behind them, leaving Martin at his desk.

Several minutes later Guitterrez walked back into the now deserted reception and approached his secretary once more. She didn't seem to notice him coming, despite his echoing footfalls; he suspected she was trying to avoid him. She managed to ignore him right up until he stood a mere foot away from her face, at which point she gave a small jump as if she had only just seen him.

"Dr. Guitterrez, you startled me", she whispered.

"Penny, did those men from the Police Department ask for anything?" Martin asked.

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. After a moment she spoke in a small voice.

"They asked to see all of your mail, but they didn't find anything interesting. They told me not to say anything."

Martin wasn't surprised by this piece of information. The two men hadn't acted like any police officials that he had ever met. He had a small suspicion that they weren't real officials at all. He made to turn away when he wondered if anything had arrived recently.

"Has anything else come today?" he asked, turning back to face her.

Penny turned to consult a chart on the wall and walked into a small office behind her desk, emerging a few seconds later.

"As a matter of fact, this just came from a Dr. Sharp."

Martin's head snapped up as she held out a package the size of a paperback book. He tore off the wrapping at the top and tipped it upside down. A piece of semi-blackened photography paper, a post-it note and a metal tube fell into his hand. Written on the post-it was a small message scribbled in blotched ink.

_Image taken - Cabo Blanco Biological Reserve. _

_Single fatality, unknown symptoms._

_Startling blood work from body; High serotonin, unknown virus._

_Dr. Michael Sharp. _

Frowning, Martin inspected the metal vile which was marked with bio-hazard warnings in several languages. Undeterred, Martin twisted the screw top open. There was a sharp hiss and the vile frosted in his hand. He tipped it upside down and a tiny container containing a blood sample and a scroll of paper laden with test results fell into his hand. He frowned at it and put them aside, fully intending to run through them as soon as he returned to his office. He then picked up the photograph paper. His face fell as what he was seeing hit him. His eyes widened and he quickly stuffed everything back into the package that they had arrived in before Penny could see anything.

"Penny, I need you to make a few calls for me. I need to talk to Dr. Ian Malcolm."


	4. Chapter 2: Aberrant Forms

Chapter 2

**Aberrant Forms**

Pushing open the large roof access door, Tim Murphy ran his hands over his business suit, ironing out the creases. He shook back the tailored sleeve and glanced at his golden Rolex watch as two surly men crossed the gravel covered floor, dressed in black overalls bearing a blue stripe than ran diagonally from shoulder to navel. They walked silently towards the large helipad, its lights flashing red rhythmically. Tim leaned idly against a weathered vent, deep in thought. His grandfather; John Hammond, had died just over a year before, leaving the long dead remains of InGen to Tim, which also came with the fact that he rightfully owned two of islands off the coast of Costa Rica and several hundred genetically engineered members of the Dinosauria. However, Tim had no desire to continue his grandfather's work. All he could do was abide by John's last wish; that he protect the dinosaurs that he worked so hard to create. Bankrupt and bombarded by the press, Tim had faced the immense task of regaining the devotion of the public and more importantly, the investors. He held several press talks stating InGen's complete reformation and strived to create far simpler biological products, such as multicoloured vegetables for infants which had become largely successful throughout the country. When they continued churning out products that bore no resemblance to their previous endeavors it seemed InGen had been forgiven. But Tim felt that he would never live down the fact that his company had spawned the so called "InGen islands" which were now almost legendary around the globe. Despite the fact that no incidents had been reported to the world at large as of late, Tim had always felt that there was something that the Costa Rican government was hiding. The aberrant forms that had previously appeared along the west coast of the Americas had ceased. But recently Tim had been receiving reports from Costa Rican officials; several reptilian creatures had washed up within the past three weeks. Tim had acted immediately; he was going to get to the bottom of what was going on. Now, as he lent against the rusting vent he once again glanced at his Rolex, his hands flitting about restlessly. A Costa Rican representative was coming to inform him of the situation; Tim had sent his private chopper to collect him from the airport. And then one of the men who had stationed themselves at the helipad called out, "Mr. Murphy, the chopper has arrived". Tim stood up straight and looked into the rusted metal of the vent he had lent on, trying to see his reflection. Slowly the deep thumping of a helicopter drifted closer over the howl of the wind. He smiled gently as he approached the glowing red lights of the pad.

The helicopter banked sharply over the New York skyline, swooping down upon a large skyscraper building entitled "InGen Headquarters". The rotors whirred loudly as the pilot positioned the streamlined Agusta A109 over the large helipad below. Manuel Cerona peered out of the Perspex window and gripped his leather briefcase tighter as the Agusta swayed in the wind. The pilot relaxed the collective stick and they slowly dropped towards the pad below. The landing gear creaked gently as they touched down, the pilot sagging forwards onto the panel. Two men dressed in InGen overall uniforms approached carefully, crouching low to avoid the spinning blades. As the rotors whined and slowed one of them threw open the door and said in a cheerful voice "Good evening ambassador, welcome to International Genetics Headquarters!" Manuel smiled warmly and thanked the man as he passed over his briefcase to the other man who took it immediately. As the rotors faded and died he unfolded gracefully from the chopper and looked around the rooftop. "Please, this way", the second man said, guiding Manuel forwards. "Ah, ambassador", called Tim Murphy warmly, extending his hand. Manuel shook it politely, excited despite himself at meeting a member of Isla Nublar incident. Tim gestured towards the door and they both approached it followed briskly by the two InGen employees.

A few minutes later they both entered Tim's large administrator's office, which was spotlessly clean and was decorated extravagantly, with oak paneling and delicate cabinets containing expensive bottles of alcohol. Large comfortable armchairs and sofas sat in front of the window which spanned the entire outer wall, giving a magnificent view of New York. Manuel seated himself in one of the squishy armchairs, pulling a large folder laden with papers from his briefcase and settling them on his lap. "Whisky, Mr. Cerona?" asked Tim from beside one of the cabinets, pouring himself a generous amount of Jack Daniels.

Manuel considered for a moment before saying in a grateful voice "I'd be delighted Mr. Murphy, I've traveled a long way." Tim handed him another glass and moved across the room to sit on one of the large leather sofas. He took a long draught of whisky and sighed appreciatively. After a few seconds, composing himself, he spoke.

"Let us be frank ambassador. Something is happening concerning InGen's…property, and your government is as eager as ever to sweep any evidence of it under the carpet. Word has reached my ears that is has something to do with the, ah, aberrant forms as it has been so colourfully named. Correct me if I'm wrong of course but was there not an investigation into a discovery made by several people down in the Cabo Blanco area? Involving possibly", Tim's eyes narrowed, "a death". Manuel froze at Tim's last words, his glass lifted halfway to his mouth. Despite the pleasantness of Tim's voice, the atmosphere of the conversation had just changed rapidly. Slowly, he lowered his hand, setting his glass on a side table. He brushed his suit absent mindedly, looking hard at Tim. When he spoke his voice had lost its warmth, it was harder, tenser. He took out various papers from the folder that was on his lap and glanced over them before talking.

"There have been several appearances of aberrant forms lately. Obviously they were all destroyed as they have been before. But this time there have been some worrying developments." When Tim's expression become enquiring Manuel spoke again. "A disease. Its appearance is directly correlative to the presence of one of these carcasses. We can only surmise that it has arisen within the dinosaur population on your islands. Several civilians have discovered this and the Costa Rican government has done their best to quell it before it got out of hand—"

"You mean you killed them?" Tim interrupted.

Manuel stared at him hard for a few moments, and then nodded his head fractionally.

"You mean to tell me that the Costa Rican government is committing murder in order to keep this from getting out?" asked Tim incredulously.

"You should know by now that any government will stop at nothing to ensure the continued integrity of its economy. Even if there must be certain…sacrifices along the way", he said calmly.

"Aren't you worried about this death getting out? Family? Friends?—"

"Believe me Mr. Murphy when I say that nobody knew where that man was."

"And if I were to…let it slip?"

"Then our situation would become complicated."

"I see", murmured Tim. "And what does the Costa Rican government plan to do about this little fiasco that seems to be unfolding here?"

"As you must understand I'm hesitant about going into details about it but ideally we would love to simply destroy your islands, but we are refraining from doing so for several reasons. Firstly, doing so would evidently attract the attention of the world to what is going on. Secondly, the disease is completely unknown to modern science. We have no idea of its capability to spread, so far we've only been able to gather scattered reports of its symptoms. It seems that it effectively prevents blood from circulating around the brain properly; eventually you get a blood clot. At least, that's what I understand of it. But I must ask, was there ever any report of this disease in the archives of your grandfather's work?"

"Possibly", answered Tim lightly. The truth was that there had been outbreaks of a mysterious prion disease throughout the production of the dinosaurs.

"Then there may have been a possible cure, or clues to which one may be procured on these islands?" asked Manuel, sitting up straighter.

"There is a possibility", said Tim in a determinedly indifferent manner.

"Then an expedition must be mounted to recover this material", said Manuel, standing up and emptying his glass.

"I am afraid ambassador that I cannot allow that. For you see, I am certain that once you find what you are looking for you will simply continue with destroying my islands."

"Your damn right we will", shouted Manuel.

"I promised my grandfather that I would protect his creations at all costs, if anything is to be done it will be done my way!" said Tim, also standing up. "If there is to be any kind of expedition to my islands then I will be organizing it. But of course it is in our best interests to be secretive about this. It would be…unfortunate if our situation were to become common knowledge to the world at large. But, please understand me when I say that I am willing to accept those consequences if the Costa Rican government sets foot upon my property." They glared at each other for a moment, and then Manuel spoke in a clearly agitated voice.

"You understand that you won't be able to stop the Costa Rican government forever."

"I am sure that you will not be able to intervene without attracting the attention of the public", Tim sneered. Tim picked up his glass and drained it, closing his eyes and the liquid trickled down his throat.

"And now ambassador it is time for you to leave", said Tim in a voice that had an obviously forced pleasantness about it, "my chopper is waiting to transport you back to the airport. I appreciate you coming down." Manuel glared at Tim for a moment longer, then picked up his briefcase, deposited his folder and turned on his heel, marching towards the door. Tim turned to look out of the large window as the door snapped shut behind him. Well, he thought, at least he had gotten to the bottom of what was going on. And now he knew what had to be done, to uphold the last wish of John Hammond Tim would have to return to a place that he swore to himself that he would never venture again.


	5. Chapter 3: Santa Fe

Chapter 3

**Santa Fe**

The Santa Fe institute had long become accustomed to the presence of Ian Malcolm, the legendary pessimistic chaotician. A collaboration of scientists from many fields formed in the mid-eighties, Santa Fe had some of the most brilliant minds on Earth. They came from all over the world, from many different fields; Economy, Biology, Physics and computer science. But Ian found many of them unimaginative and irksome, claiming them to be corrupted by modern day fashions and ridiculous traditions. Malcolm was seen frequently at the speaker's podium, giving lectures on various mathematical proofs. His work on many theories that he helped form, such as 'Life at the edge of chaos' had made him one of the earliest pioneers in the emerging field of Chaos Theory. His work was well documented around the world and he had even gained the honor of having a chaotic phenomenon named after him; the so called Malcolm Effect; the theory that that complex systems followed a pattern, such as weather or stock markets, in which at a certain point events would spiral out of control. But most of his popularity had arisen from his connection to International Genetic Technologies, and how his theories had been put into practical circumstances at Jurassic Park. The chaotician disliked this publicity entirely, as he was frequently forced to answer absurd questions from the press. Many people came to his speeches purely because of the fact that he had visited the "InGen islands" on two occasions. Over time he expected it to quiet but it did not. He was barraged by colleagues for full explanations of the events that had occurred. He had often said in public that it had been far easier before he had made his second trip. The events at Jurassic Park were known only to a handful of civilians, all of whom were bound by non-disclosure agreements. But after the incident in San Diego InGen's secret was blown wide open. The whole world knew what John Hammond had done, but they wanted details. Evidently Malcolm would be barraged more than most as his work involved far more people.

Now Ian stood at his usual station, behind his podium. He stared out over his audience, which even for his standards was abnormally large. He had expected this; it was a rare sight to see him speak about Jurassic Park or anything to do with InGen while in public. Several hundred people had managed to cram themselves into the comparatively small room, which had once served as a chapel, most of who looked like college students. They wore bright colorful clothing, chatting merrily, whereas the Santa Fe scientists sat clustered in a more secluded corner, eyeing the youths reproachfully. The room was dimly lit, but a large spotlight had been directed at the stage to make Malcolm's dark figure more discernable from the background. Above Malcolm a large sign had been hung above the stage.

**JURASSIC PARK**

**"An accident waiting to happen"**

Dressed fully in black, Malcolm paused before speaking. "Over a decade ago John Hammond approached me with the idea of genetically engineering extinct animals to be brought back from the dead. Cloning was a vastly popular subject; it was rapidly spreading and advancing. It had been speculated over for many years before hand, after all DNA had been extracted from a piece of Quagga hide and from Egyptian Mummies, it was even considered possible that a specimen could be cloned from frozen mammoth remains. Yet nobody could figure out where to get a viable source of Dinosaur DNA. It remained a mystery for some time. Hammond solved that problem ingeniously; he stockpiled the fossilized remains of ancient tree resin known as amber. He hypothesized that at some point ancient insects would have bitten animals, just as they do today. They then would have landed on the branches of trees and occasionally become entombed within the sticky sap. If Hammond could get enough of this material he reasoned that eventually he would find a fossilized insect that contained perfectly preserved Dino DNA. And he was correct, he went on to create the wonders that exist today. A wonderful idea, as I am sure many of you may think. A chance to investigate ancient animals from the past, perhaps even experiment with the mystery of extinction that has so stubbornly evaded human understanding in the past. But Hammond wouldn't stop there, he wasn't going to merely clone these animals. He was going to put these animals on a secluded island off the coast of Costa Rica, in a kind of amusement park. Hammond claimed that this was the only way to fund this new technology, and he was quite right, it was hardly any cure for cancer. He asked that I make a mathematical proof for the Isla Nublar project using Chaos Theory, and I did just that. I found that John's little project would—however much he would deny it—be inherently unstable. Jurassic Park was supposed to be a completely contained ecosystem, in fact everything on that island, except for the air of course, was never supposed to leave. Such a feat is impossible with complex systems, especially living systems. Hammond underestimated his animals; he didn't expect them to act alive. I told him that life cannot be contained or controlled by man, life will break free, no matter the size of the obstacles it faces. Life finds a way. Hammond chose to ignore my recommendations, and went ahead in building his park. Yet despite all of his little security measures, despite all of the state of the art technology it was still vitally flawed. But Hammond never saw this, and he would never believe it. In fact he would refuse to accept this inherent instability, right until it came up and bit him in the ass. Jurassic Park failed, just as I predicted it always would. Something as simple as a disgruntled employee destroyed his carefully planned procedures, just as it always happens in complex systems. Tiny, insignificant details escalate and eventually destroy delicate and finely tuned calculations. And the consequences at Jurassic Park were far larger than most applications of complex systems. In short, Jurassic Park was, and remains to this day, an accident waiting to happen."

The room was filled with thunderous applause and cheering, a few people gave loud whistles. Malcolm frowned and leaned on the podium. The noise was coming from the students in the audience; obviously they didn't know how things were usually done at Santa Fe. The scientists looked shocked at such a reception, it was bad form to show such enthusiasm, especially after something such as a lecture on Chaos Theory. Malcolm stood for a long time until the noise died down, then a reluctant smile crossed his face.

"I'm glad that our young friends from the local university are as passionate about something as amazingly interesting as Chaos Theory, almost as interested as I am. Thank you for listening," he said. Embarrassed looks crossed the student's faces. The room was filled with the scrapping of chairs as everybody got up to leave.


	6. Chapter 4: Contact

Chapter 4

**Contact**

Malcolm walked across the parking lot outside the chapel, towards his gleaming red Pontiac GTO, which was parked awkwardly over two parking spaces. The sun shone brilliantly directly above, the buildings in the distance were blurred by the heat wave. Sarah Harding was walking alongside him, wearing a pair of designer sunglasses. Malcolm was forty-eight years old; streaks of grey were beginning to show on the flanks of his head and sharp lines were beginning to form on his face. Sarah was almost thirty six, but had retained the appearance of a far younger woman, with her ginger hair flowing down past her shoulders. Harding and Malcolm made an unlikely couple, with Ian dressed completely in black and Sarah wearing mud spattered khakis, looking muscular and energetic.

"Nice lecture today," said Sarah.

"Yes, the applause from the audience was interesting," said Ian.

"They just came to see you talk about what happened, you don't give many talks like that one. Although, they did seem a little over enthusiastic, I thought I'd gone deaf afterwards."

"To say the least," Malcolm snorted.

"Yeah well, what did you expect?"

"I expected a little more people than usual, but not a hundred school kids."

"Do you think they understood what you were saying?"

"No. I doubt they heard anything except the words 'Jurassic Park'. None of them looked competent enough to know the first thing about Chaos Theory, and I doubt they would care to."

Harding shrugged and detecting Ian's irritation decided to change the subject.

"Kelly called last night, she wants to know if you're still on for Saturday," said Sarah.

"Ah, yes. She's been looking forward to that," said Malcolm as an old Ford Sedan rumbled past them.

"Where're you taking her?"

"We're going out to dinner. She doesn't have much time to relax now she's in college. Want to come?"

"Sure, I could use a good meal. Our apartment hasn't had much in the ways of good eating at the moment. And are you conducting some kind of experiment?"

"What do you mean?"

"That thing in the fridge, I thought you were trying to grow a friend from that mold."

"Hey, that turkey was still good," said Malcolm as they reached the car. Harding gave a hoot of laughter as Ian pulled out his keys.

"How do you feel about lunch?" he said as he unlocked the Pontiac.

"Yeah, ok." As they both made to get into the car they both heard a shout from behind them, further down the street. Malcolm squinted in the harsh sunlight. A man was running towards them, his arms waving in the air. They both paused and looked at each other, perplexed. As the man came closer they saw that he was a bearded man of around forty, but he looked haggard and his clothes were rumpled. He bore the resemblance of somebody who had not slept in several days. As he reached them he bent over slightly, panting.

"Dr. Ian Malcolm?" he asked between breaths.

"Yes," said Malcolm.

"I need to speak to you immediately."

"And you are?"

"Dr. Martin Guiterrez, I've been trying to contact you since Thursday."

"Yes well, I've been away on business. I'm afraid I don't have time to talk to wild theories about the InGen islands. I was just going to lunch with Dr. Harding here—"

"No, you don't understand. You're the only one that can help. We have a big problem down in Costa Rica. We've found…creatures on the beaches."

Malcolm paused, his hand on the door handle.

"And there's something else," Marty continued. "A mysterious disease is spreading. We first detected it a few weeks ago, so far it's showing up along the west coast alone. The victims are showing really strange symptoms, and several fatalities." Malcolm looked up, his expression blank. He stood for a few moments, considering Marty.

"If you're concerned about disease I suggest you contact the proper authorities to deal with it. Costa Rica has one of the best health care services in the world, I'm sure they'll be able to deal with it."

"Dr. Malcolm, please. This is different. It's unlike anything we've ever seen before. Considering that it's only appearing along the west coast I'm assuming that it's pretty obvious what this means."

"Could you be more specific?" Malcolm sighed. Guiterrez's eye twitched.

"I'm talking about the InGen islands, Dr. Malcolm. I'm talking about Jurassic Park."

Marty looked over his shoulder, as if checking to see if they were being watched. He looked up and down the streets and then started to look into the windows of nearby buildings. He spoke wearily as he continued to look around.

"Look, I can't say anything more here. Could we go somewhere a little more private?"

"What are you worried about? There's nobody here but us," said Malcolm, exasperated.

"Dr. Malcolm, please!"

Malcolm stared at him. Guiterrez seemed agitated, almost frightened. The situation must be serious if Guiterrez was worried about being followed, but who would do such a thing Malcolm didn't know. If something concerning InGen then he could be one of the only people that could find out the full truth. He made a mental note to call them as soon as possible. Not that he didn't trust them; after all they had been in contact with him since Tim Murphy had taken over the company, giving him generous grants for his continued counseling on their newer projects. But he had to find out what was going on. Pulling open the door of the car and folded the seat forward, providing room for Guiterrez to climb into the back seat.

"Hop in," he said.

The clink of cutlery and load chatter filled their ears as they ordered their meals from the waitress. Malcolm had chosen this restaurant purposefully, if Guiterrez was right in being concerned about being followed then it was unlikely that they would be overheard. Harding sipped coke from the bottle and watched the Guiterrez with polite interest as he continued to jerkily look over his shoulder at the other tables. Finally, he decided that it was safe to speak and turned to face them, and a smile spread across his face.

"Good choice," he said and took a swig of his beer. Malcolm tossed his menu aside and leaned forward slightly.

"Why did you come to me?" asked Malcolm.

"Look, there are only a handful of people I figured could help me. And out of all of them you're the closest." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Grant is in Luxemburg doing lectures, something about his new theories on raptor behavior. Sattler is on holiday in France with her kid. Nick Van Owen is doing a National Geographic piece somewhere in Sumatra. When I couldn't contact you I phoned your secretary, she said you'd be here in Santa Fe for the next few days. I drove here as soon as I could."

"You drove here?" asked Harding. "All the way from Costa Rica?"

"Yeah, as you can see I haven't slept much." Guiterrez sighed deeply and ran his hand over the two day stubble on his chin.

"Is this really that important?" asked Malcolm.

"I'm afraid it is. We've detected a strange disease that's cropping up all along the west coast, and at the same time we're getting reports of strange creatures on the beaches in the same areas."

"Where did you first hear about this?"

"I got a package in the mail from a guy called Dr. Sharp over in the new hospital they're setting up, it's on the outskirts of the Cabo Blanco Biological Reserve. A guy had come in during the night and died very quickly, but Sharp couldn't figure out what had happened to him. He'd sent me a sample of the man's blood, so I took a look at it. His blood work was seriously messed up, I had no idea what had happened to him, but it was obvious that this was some kind of unknown allergen."

"You don't know what it is?"

We have absolutely no idea what it is. It's not a virus from what we can tell; white blood cell counts don't go up at all. As far as we can tell it's not airborne, only a handful of people have contracted it so far, but the problem is that it's spreading."

"Contagious?"

The waitress returned with their meals and they fell silent, smiling politely until she was out of earshot before continuing. Malcolm looked down at his food in distaste; he hadn't really been concentrating on what he had ordered. But Guiterrez was tucking in as if dying of hunger, taking bites so large it was almost absurd. They both waited for a few moments for him to swallow the mouthful of chicken, swilling it down with another swig of beer. He sighed appreciatively and picked up a bread roll and began to speak again, as if he had only just remembered that Malcolm and Harding were there.

"Yes, this allergen seems to be very contagious. It seems to be spreading through bodily contact, entering through cuts or being ingested. We've tested all of the water and food supplies, and found nothing. But the problem is we--," he looked over his shoulder, "we've seen this before. Around ten years ago we got reports of people becoming ill, along the west coast. People were getting splitting headaches, diarrhea. It's almost periodic. I think it has something to do with these…things that are washing up." Malcolm sat for a while, looking down at the tablecloth, nursing his diet coke. When he spoke his voice was somewhat constricted.

"Why hasn't this been on the news? The media would have caught wind of something like this."

"I have no idea. We've put all of the infected patients under quarantine and for now it seems contained, but I don't know how long we can keep it that way. Several of them have died; they develop aneurisms and go into shock. It's not pretty, and it's extremely painful. There's another thing. Some guys came to see me just before I got Dr. Sharp's sample, told me to contact them if I heard anything. I think somebody's trying to cover this up."

Malcolm snorted. "It wouldn't surprise me," he said, stabbing at his salad.

"Have you contacted InGen?" said Harding through a mouthful of beef casserole.

"I've tried, but they're not returning my calls. But they've got something to do with this."

A high electronic trill filled the room, and people at neighboring tables began looking around for the source. Frowning, Malcolm pulled his mobile phone from his pocket, glancing at the lit display screen. It read 'Murphy, Tim', Malcolm looked up at Guiterrez. "Looks like you're right." He clicked 'answer' and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Dr. Malcolm," said a confident voice.

"Tim. How are you?" asked Malcolm.

"I'm very well, thank you. However, it seems that we may have a small problem."

"Tell me about it," Malcolm said, staring at Guiterrez, who was looking at Ian intently.

"Excuse me?" asked Tim, his demeanor changing slightly.

"A Dr. Guiterrez has come to see me, concerning a mysterious disease cropping up down in Costa Rica." There was a long silence. Then Tim spoke, but his voice had become tenser.

"How did he come across this?"

"Apparently some of your animals are washing up along the west coast."

"I know. As I say, I need your help. Would you please come down to InGen Headquarters as soon as possible and I'll explain everything. I could use Dr. Harding as well, if she would agree. And this Dr. Guiterrez, I'd like him to come too."

"What's this all about—"

"I'm sending my jet to come and get you immediately, be at the Los Alamos airport at five o'clock today," Tim interrupted, whose mind seemed elsewhere. Malcolm could tell that they weren't going to get any further over the phone, and sighed.

"Alright, I'll see you soon," he said and rang off. Harding and Guiterrez were looking at him enquiringly, Marty had stopped eating, his half eaten bread roll halfway to his mouth.

Malcolm stood up and threw down some cash to pay for the meal. "I guess we're taking a little trip to New York."


	7. Chapter 5: InGen Headquarters

Chapter 5

**InGen Headquarters**

Malcolm, Guiterrez and Harding walked through the wide open doors of the InGen headquarters building, momentarily stunned. The reception was massive, and filled with a bustling movement. It was spotlessly clean. Several dozen people were walking around, some appearing and disappearing into the lifts at the very rear of the building, others milling around the large desk area. The marble floor gleamed brightly, reflecting the light being emitted by several long strip lamps above. A waiting area was stationed in the corner, filled with comfortable armchairs and low coffee tables, a vending machine stood against the wall. They stopped just past the threshold, looking awkward for a moment; they didn't know what they were to do now. Malcolm had assumed that Tim would be waiting for him, but he was nowhere to be seen, and nobody had seemed to have noticed them arrive. It was unusual, seeing that he seemed to be so urgent to get them here. His jet had hurried them on board and taken off as soon as they had arrived at the Los Alamos airport, and a taxi had been waiting for them when they landed in New York to whisk them off to the InGen building. Malcolm shrugged.

"What now?" asked Harding, looking around.

"I thought he'd be here," said Malcolm.

"Well, if he has such a big problem why isn't he here?"

"I don't know."

At that moment the doors of one of the lifts at the back of the building, and Tim Murphy emerged. His eyes scanned the room quickly as he stalked forwards. He spotted them, and walked towards them with surprising speed. As he came closer Malcolm could see that Tim had the air of somebody who had been constantly harassed recently; his hair was standing up on end and his suit was creased. His eyes looked weary. However, as he reached them he smiled and extended his hand.

"Dr. Malcolm, I'm so glad you came," he said, shaking hands. Malcolm smiled politely, and began to ask what was going on, but Tim shook his head fractionally. His eyes darted around the reception, looking at his employees. Malcolm frowned at this sudden tense behavior, but it seemed that that nobody had noticed them and Tim relaxed again.

"Ah, Dr. Harding, I'm glad to finally meet you," he said, smiling as though nothing had happened and extending his hand. She shook it uneasily, glancing towards Malcolm. By then Tim had moved on to face Guiterrez and he looked at him for a moment, considering the older man.

"Dr. Guiterrez, thank you for coming. I'm very interested to see what you've uncovered down in Costa Rica. But I'd prefer if we talked in private," he said, glancing once more around the reception. It was obvious that he didn't consider it safe to talk about his little problem in public, as he still looked over his shoulder occasionally. Tim led them across the marble flooring, towards the lift that he had appeared from a few moments before.

Two minutes later they exited the lift, on the thirty sixth floor of the InGen HQ building, Tim stalked out along the long corridor, which was painted beige and was lit warmly, with expensive framed portraits hanging on the walls. As they approached the end of the hall a heavy wooden door came into view, and overhead was a large sign marked "Conference Room". Tim turned the handle and pushed it open with a gentle snap, walking inside. Malcolm followed, and was surprised by the elegance that he found within. A vast table made completely of glass stretched almost all of the way across the room, with 20 leather chairs stationed at equal intervals along each side. The wall running along the exterior of the building was also made completely of glass, giving a panoramic view of the skyline outside. Exotic looking plants were stationed in the corners, housed in expensive Asian style vases. At the far end of the room a large portrait had been hung like a shrine, depicting the posing figure of John Hammond, although he looked far younger than when Ian had known him. Underneath it was an engraved golden plaque.

_**John Alfred Hammond**_

_**1918 – 2002**_

_**International Genetic Technologies Inc. Founder**_

"Please, sit down," said Tim airily, walking along the table and seating himself in a noticeably larger seat in front of the portrait of his Grandfather. Malcolm, Guiterrez and Harding took a seat each along the left side of the table, and then turned expectantly to Tim. But he was looking at his watch and glancing towards the door. Malcolm cleared his throat to get Tim's attention.

"So, Tim, what's going on?" he asked.

"Ok, we've got a big problem," said Tim, turning to face them. "As Dr. Guiterrez has found there is a mysterious disease immerging in Costa Rica. It's suspected that this new allergen is coming from Isla Sorna. The government is sitting on it at the moment, trying to keep the press from getting a hold of it. So far I've been able to stop them from destroying the islands, which at the moment is their sole desire. Unfortunately, this new disease seems to be more aggressive than Guiterrez may have seen. People are dying, fast. This has occurred before in the same places, as he may be aware, but never to this extent."

"So it's mutating?" asked Harding.

"Obviously, it is. Previously, this aberrant disease had merely caused severe headaches, nothing fatal."

"So you brought us here why?"

"Well, I'll tell you in a few moments. If my watch is correct the final edition to this little meeting should be arriving any minute now." The door snapped open and a man poked his head in, looking around for Tim.

"Mr. Murphy, he's here," the man said.

"Excellent, send him in Jack," smiled Tim. The man nodded and disappeared, shutting the door behind him. They sat for a few seconds and then the door opened once more and a man in his late thirties entered the room, dressed in a checked shirt. Dr. Henry Wu looked around at the four of them, finding Tim and nodding. He crossed the room and sat down opposite Malcolm, breathing heavily. Ian noticed he looked flustered.

"Henry, glad you made it," said Tim.

"Sorry I'm late, I had to finish up a few things," Wu said, looking around at the others.

"Dr. Sarah Harding, Dr. Guiterrez, and Dr. Ian Malcolm, may I introduce Dr. Henry Wu. He was the chief geneticist at Jurassic Park," announced Tim. Harding and Guiterrez nodded curtly.

"Ah, yes. We met briefly," said Malcolm.

"I remember, Dr. Malcolm. Your predictions about the park were surprisingly accurate, however unfortunate that was for everybody on the island at that time." Malcolm gave a small laugh.

Tim clapped his hands together. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, we're all here. Let's get this show on the road," he said.


	8. Chapter 6: DX

Chapter 6

**DX**

The sun was beginning to set in New York, throwing the city into silhouette form. The sky was turning a mixture of spectacular colours, like an immense rainbow, stretching towards the horizon. The lights of the countless skyscrapers were flicking on, one by one, lighting up like so many Christmas trees. It was a beautiful sight, clearly seen through the glass wall of InGen Headquarters building, but nobody paid it any attention. They were in deep concentration.

They all sat around the huge glass table, staring at Tim, who looked as if gathering his thoughts. Apart from the distant sound of cars below in the streets, it was completely silent in the InGen building, almost peaceful. They gave him a moment, then Guiterrez spoke, impatiently.

"So, now can you tell us why we're here?" he asked. Tim stood up and began pacing backwards and forwards behind his chair, muttering to himself for a few moments. Then he spoke.

"I need your help. You alone can help me sufficiently. I'm organizing a small expedition to go to our island and recover some valuable materials. I need you to accompany me."

There was a brief dumbstruck silence that filled the room, ringing harshly in their ears. Malcolm looked at Tim incredulously for a second, then turned to face Harding and Guiterrez, both of whom looked just as scandalized.

"You're insane," whispered Malcolm. Tim glanced at him and a small grin crossed his face. He continued pacing for a few moments.

"I assure you that I am not. You see; the Costa Rican government suspects that this outbreak is coming from our island. That is, I'm afraid, completely true. For a long time InGen had a big problem during the manufacturing process of the dinosaurs it was making. They couldn't find out what was causing it. 60 of the dinosaurs produced were simply becoming sick and dying. One thing was obvious to everybody. It was a disease."

Malcolm was shaking his head, but Tim continued, ignoring him. "This disease was completely unknown to mankind. It had no official classification; it had never been seen in the animal kingdom. Our scientists named it DX. It plagued the company for several years. Then, merely a few months before the incident at Jurassic Park, something was important was uncovered. The carnivore's food source was contaminated. Protein fragments were acting as prions."

"Jesus," said Guiterrez.

Tim nodded. "Indeed. This was a massively expensive new technology, and when the dinosaurs were finally resurrected they were dying. My grandfather was furious, but there was little that could be done about it at the time, we were unequipped to combat it. But that wasn't the biggest problem. While it was at first merely spreading to other animals, of which were mostly newborns, this disease was starting to spread, not just between the dinosaurs, but it was being passed on to humans. Nothing serious was occurring at the time, employees took it at first to be a bad case of the flu. It was fortunate that it was still reported, otherwise we wouldn't have been able to find out about this so soon. But there was always the absolute possibility that it could mutate. My grandfather saw this as a means for concern, he was preparing to open the most ambitious amusement park in the history of the world, but he could not risk his visitors falling ill with a completely unknown allergen. Dr. Wu here was working around the clock to find a cure. And he came very close, in fact, he was preparing for initial testing when the Jurassic Park incident occurred. But he had no opportunity to retrieve his work, as all of it was stored on the computer mainframe at Isla Nublar. Not that anybody would consider it necessary to recover it, Jurassic Park had failed. But now it seems that we do."

"Wait a minute, Isla Nublar was destroyed, how do expect to collect this information?" said Malcolm. He stared at Tim for a long time, who had stopped pacing. Tim looked calculating, staring back at Malcolm. Somehow Ian knew the answer that was to follow, and he felt a chill run through him.

"No. It was not," said Tim in a steely voice. Malcolm looked dismayed, he heaved a heavy sigh. He shook his head again and whispered, "I should have expected something like this. Hammond was always too attached to his creations."

Tim turned away and began pacing again, but he was smiling.

"Isla Nublar still exists to this day," he said.

"Please, don't tell me it's still inhabited by dinosaurs," sighed Ian. Tim shrugged slightly.

"I can't do that, Dr. Malcolm. The dinosaurs of Isla Nublar are still very much alive."

"How many?" asked Guiterrez, leaning forwards, his face bearing an expression of benign interest. Once again, Tim smiled, this time he gave a small laugh. His eyes were glinting with interest and excitement.

"All of them, Dr. Guiterrez. It seems that all of our dinosaurs are aware of their engineered state of deficiency. They have learned to ingest plants that are rich in the amino acid lysine, just like their counterparts on Isla Sorna."

"How many of them managed to survive?"

"All of them. Well, all of the species have anyway. Of course single members of each have fallen as prey occasionally."

"Wait a minute, how is that possible? Isla Nublar is a lot smaller than Isla Sorna, right?" asked Malcolm.

"Indeed it is, but Jurassic Park held a far smaller contingent of dinosaurs than Site B. As you already know Site B was where the dinosaurs were created and matured. But they had to remain there until they're enclosures at Jurassic Park were complete. Obviously, only a fraction of the population was ever successfully introduced, but that's still quite a large number."

"But I thought that food had to be shipped to the island once every two weeks?"

"Yes, it did. But it seems that many of the larger herbivores are migratory, they keep moving. They feed a little, then move on. This way they have managed to maintain a considerable amount of vegetation on the island."

"Won't they eventually deplete it? An island that size cannot maintain such a population of large animals, despite any methods used to slow the consumption of their food source."

"Eventually, yes. There are already several severely deforested areas. But there is sufficient vegetation to last the dinosaur population a considerable period."

"How long?"

"At the current rate of consumption, several years, and--"

"One moment here, what happened to all of that money that InGen expended on the deconstruction of the Isla Nublar facilities?" said Malcolm, frowning.

"Oh, very good, Dr. Malcolm. Not even I remembered at first. While my grandfather may have officially recorded those expenditures as used to deconstruct Jurassic Park, he did not. He used that money to…persuade certain people to turn a blind eye to its existence, and to deny it if ever asked about it by unwanted visitors." There was a brief moment, as they all absorbed this information. Malcolm still looked dismayed, even disappointed.

"That's pretty dark," he said.

"Yes, well, as I said my grandfather was especially attached to his creations."

"Who knows about this?"

"Apart from a few high up Costa Rican officials, they are all sitting in this room. My grandfather was highly secretive about this, he never wanted anybody to know. There are no government agencies that keep such a watchful eye on Isla Nublar as they do on Sorna. He told me this, on his death bed, when he named me his successor."

Guiterrez seemed to be the only one impressed by this information; Wu looked troubled and sullen, Malcolm still remained incredulous, as did Sarah. But Guiterrez was intrigued, so dinosaurs existed elsewhere? And he was being offered the chance to see them, in the flesh.

"Why us? What do you need us for?" asked Malcolm.

"I cannot trust any of the previous people who worked for my grandfather, the construction workers, or the scientists. Other than them, you are the only people alive that have knowledge about the layout of island. My grandfather is dead, as is the game warden, the chief engineer and the lawyer in charge of InGen. And as I was quite young at the time of the incident, my knowledge is limited at best. I need you. We have no idea how far this disease could spread, we could be preventing hundreds of thousands of deaths."

"Saving the world kinda stuff, huh?" said Guiterrez. Tim shrugged and smiled meekly. They all sat, considering it.

"Say we were to agree to this little adventure of yours, what's the plan?" asked Malcolm, his hand moving over his chin thoughtfully. For answer, Tim picked up a long black remote control that was lying in front of his chair, and clicked a large rectangular red button at the top. There was a loud, high pitched electronic chime that filled the room. Nothing happened for a moment. Then there was a whirring of a motor. Behind Tim, the portrait of John Hammond began to rise upwards, towards the ceiling. As it neared the top, a large black LED television screen was revealed. A small portion of the ceiling retracted, providing room for the portrait, which continued upwards, moving out of view. Then, with a dull clunk it disappeared and the ceiling moved back into position. Another electronic beep filled their ears and the television flickered to life. On the screen, it perfectly sharp focus, was a large topographical map of Isla Nublar, and to the left were several readouts.

Guiterrez gave a long whistle, his eyes wide.

"Slick, very slick," said Malcolm, for the first time looking impressed. Tim moved to the side of the screen, to give them a better view. The map of the island was overlaid with infa-red dots and circles, and contour lines riddled the surface, most concentrated at the North and the East.

"Over the years, my grandfather collected information from many satellite passes. Over time he learned the typical ranges and nesting sites of all of the dinosaur species on the island, which you can see here, as the red dots and circles here. When I found out about this disease I studied them closely, and have fortunately discovered that this information greatly decreases the risk of my plan. Dr. Wu's research data is stored on file, on the highest access level of the Jurassic Park computer mainframe. To access this we will need to restore power to the park's systems, here."

He clicked the remote control again, which emitted another beep, and the screen on the TV changed. A red rectangle appeared near the southern tip of the island, which began expanding to the point where it filled the screen. Now it showed a zoomed in view of the south. Most of the map showed jungle, a few patches of fields of grass showed through. In the centre was a large single, bunker like building, constructed of concrete.

"This is the island's geothermal power plant. The island is a seamount, created by a volcanic up thrust in the Earth's crust. The south of the island is still fairly active, there are steam vents all over the place and the ground is sometimes hot underfoot. Now, the geothermal plant was designed to bear harsh conditions, it was never supposed to need maintaining. After all of these years being offline it should still work."

"Wait, why would it be offline? Did somebody go in afterwards and turn it off?" said Malcolm.

"No, no. When John Arnold gave the shutdown command, it turned off all of the power sources. When the reset the circuit breakers, it was for the gasoline generator only. For a short time it could run the fences by itself. Now, when the park was still online it was run in conjunction with several other power sources, including the large gasoline generator and a hydroelectric power plant. At the time, they were all needed to run at once to generate the power needed to operate the miles of electrified fencing around the island for any extended period of time. But this alone should be sufficient to run the computer systems-"

"Why don't we use the gasoline generator then?"

"Because after all of these years the gas would have long since evaporated, and it would be impossible to refuel it quickly enough."

"Well, what about the hydroelectric plant then, according to this map it's a lot closer."

Tim shook his head. "No, the hydroelectric plant would take far too long to bring back online and to generate the necessary power. I'm afraid the geothermal plant is our only option. Now, from the information the satellite passes I'm determined that no dinosaur species that bare any threat occupy this area."

"That bare any threat?" said Malcolm, raising his eyebrows.

"The area is home to the Microceratops, small herbivores." Malcolm nodded approvingly. Tim continued.

"We'll fly in by helicopter and get the power back online. Then," he clicked the remote control again, which beeped once more and showed a new image, which showed several large buildings, "we will re-enter the helicopters and be dropped off here, at the visitor centre. The satellite images show that this area is almost completely devoid of dinosaurs. Here, we can access the computer systems and get the information. That's the second reason why I need you Dr. Wu; you're the only person left in the world with the access codes to the computers. After we've got the data we'll fly out of there, get back here. Hopefully then Dr. Wu can complete his research and we can present the cure to the Costa Rican government, and this will all be under control. Hopefully we can do this before they get to it?"

"What do you mean?"

"They want to destroy it. And I have no doubt that they will, unless we can stop the virus."

"Look, if you're the head of InGen, why don't you just send in the cavalry? I'm sure that you could simply overwhelm the island and take it by force, instead of going in with a small group like this."

"Because, nobody knows that it exists, and I plan to keep it that way. If they all of a sudden so an armada approaching the island I'm sure they'll be able to put one and one together."

"Why? Why do you care?"

"I made a promise to my grandfather; to protect his creations. And I plan to keep it. The Costa Rican government doesn't want this getting out either, their economy would be severely crippled, and they rely on tourism."

"But you said that the Costa Rican government would destroy the island eventually. Won't that alert everybody in the same way?"

"Yes, I'm fairly certain that eventually they would destroy it, regardless of what happens to their economy. That is why we have to get there first".

Tim clicked the remote again, and with a final beep the screen went blank. The ceiling retracted once more and the portrait of Hammond came back into view. The motor whirred until the TV was completely concealed, then left a piercing silence. Tim looked at his grandfather for a moment, smiling. Then he slipped the remote into the pocket of his suit and turned back to the table.

"So, are you in?" he asked.

Wu was nodding, and put the tips of his fingers together.

"If it's a matter of saving lives, how can I refuse? I'm with you Tim," he said. Tim nodded. He turned to Guiterrez.

"Your knowledge of diseases could be very useful to us Dr. Guiterrez; your help would be much appreciated." Marty sat for a moment, his eyes closed. Then, he nodded slowly. Tim turned to Malcolm, apprehensive for the first time. Malcolm was still frowning, deep in thought. He turned the face Tim.

"As much as I hate those islands, I have to agree with Dr. Wu. If it's a matter of saving lives, I'm in. But I must warn you that things will not go according to plan. You have made several mistakes, just as Hammond did before you." Tim twitched irritably, but nodded all the same. He turned to Harding.

"If Ian's going, I'm going," she said.

"Alright then, thank you. All of you."

"When were you planning to leave?" asked Malcolm.

"As soon as possible; Tomorrow morning. I'll have my choppers pick us up at a nearby airport and we'll fly down to Costa Rica, then to the islands. Now, get some sleep, all of you. You shall be given accommodation in this building, which I think you will find suited to your needs. If you need to contact anybody or if you need anything, just ask. We leave at sunrise. Any questions?"

The room was silent, and Tim smiled, triumphant.

"Ok guys, good luck to us all."

Tim clicked a button on the table and a man popped his head in.

"Yes, Mr. Murphy?" he said.

"Please show these people to the quarters we have prepared."

"Yes, sir. Please, follow me," he said to them and left.

They all nodded, and stood. Wu, Harding and Guiterrez headed for the door, but Malcolm stayed where he was. At the threshold and turned, their expressions quizzical.

"Dr. Malcolm, what did you mean when you said that things won't go according to plan?" murmured Tim.

Malcolm smiled, and headed for the door.

"You'll see," he said over his shoulder.


	9. Chapter 7: Considerations

Chapter 7

**Considerations**

Malcolm and Sarah moved cautiously around the room they had been appointed, feeling slightly gawky and out of place. The room was extravagantly decorated, and had the quality and atmosphere of a five star hotel. The walls were creamy white and were laden with slightly Chinese patterns, there was a large double bed in the centre covered in throw pillows of varying colours, and they had their own bathroom. A television stood on a side table, and Malcolm now sat flicking through the channels. It was hard to believe that anybody could be living a normal life, sitting in their homes without a care in the world. Ian settled on CNN, watching for any sign of the disease in Costa Rica. But, the most interesting thing that had happened was a bank robbery, no sign of infectious allergens. Wu and Guiterrez had both been appointed similar rooms next door to them, but Malcolm and Sarah were sharing a room. Sarah was pulling a tower of towels out from the cupboard next to the television; the faint roar of the shower was already running in the bathroom.

"So, what do you think?" asked Sarah, rooting in the cupboard for some shampoo. Malcolm hadn't heard her; he was sitting, deep in thought.

"Ian? I'm talking to you," she repeated.

"What?—Oh, I err, pardon?" he said, looking up.

"I said what do you think?"

Malcolm shrugged. "Sounds like a plan."

Harding frowned, still rooting around.

"What do you really think?"

"That something will go wrong. Tim may not see it, but his expedition is fraught with danger."

Sarah sighed, bringing out a bottle of L'Oreal.

"I thought it was fairly simple. We'll be in and out within an hour or so, and he said there weren't any dinosaurs in the areas that we're going. I don't see the problem."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows at her.

"Can't you stop the doom saying?" she said, exasperated.

"I've been doing it my whole life, and I've been right every time. Believe me; this won't go as he has planned."

Sarah shrugged helplessly, dumping the shampoo on top of the towels. Picking the bundle up, she headed blindly for door of the bathroom; the towels were stacked so high that they blocked her field of vision. She left the door open, but he could hear her undressing around the corner. Ian clicked off the television and took off his jacket, throwing it onto the bed. He sat for a few minutes, listening to the sound of the shower. Sarah was humming to herself, which echoed throughout the bathroom. Then the sound of the water cut off abruptly and he heard the clink of metal as she took the towel off the hook. Then she re-emerged, wrapped in a towel.

"Sarah, why in god's name do you need so many towels, if you're only going to use one of them?" asked Malcolm.

She smiled wryly.

"I'm a woman Ian."

"Sometimes I wonder."

"Cheeky!" she exclaimed and threw a pillow at him, laughing. Then she stopped abruptly, and turned to Ian.

"You better call Kelly, tell her you can't make your little dinner," she said.

"Oh, Christ, I forgot all about that," he sighed, "What the hell am I supposed to tell her?"

"I don't know. Tell her you have an appointment with a few old friends from out of town," she smirked.

"Very clever," he murmured, reaching for the phone. He brought out a small phone book that he carried with him everywhere and flicked through the pages. He was terrible at remembering phone numbers, the book had been a present from Sarah after he'd lost her number several times. He found Kelly's mobile phone number and began to dial, slowly, looking up and down at the numbers in the book and on the keypad. Sarah had to smile at Ian's ineptitude when it came to technology; it was funny at the worst of times. She listened to Ian's conversation with his daughter, by the sound of Ian's tone of apology she was bitterly disappointed. Ian had said that she had been looking forward to it for some time.

"Tell you what, how about we'll reschedule for Tuesday, I'll take you somewhere real nice," said Ian. Faintly, Sarah heard Kelly's reluctant agreement, and then heard something she couldn't make out.

"I love you too," said Malcolm, and hung up. He sighed heavily and lay back on the bed.

"We better get some rest, Tim said we leave at sunrise," said Sarah, glancing at the digital clock that was lying next to the television. They climbed into bed tiredly; they had been up for a long time. As Sarah lay next to him, she spoke, her voice tense.

"Let us hope, that you are wrong about this expedition," she said. Malcolm didn't answer, but frowned. Then he closed his eyes, and slept.


	10. Chapter 8: Departure

Chapter 7

**Departure**

The rotors of the big bellied Sikorsky helicopters began to whir and swirl on the landing pad. As Malcolm jumped down from the large SUV he looked over at them as they're engines began to whine. There were two of them, large and grey against the clear blue sky. Blue stripes ran down their flanks, bearing the InGen logo. They're rotors were long and heavy looking, the cockpits cavernous. It was a beautiful day, the sun shone brightly and the sky was almost cloudless. It was hard to imagine anything threatening. Tim jumped down from the passenger door, dressed in camouflage shorts and T-Shirt, sturdy boots and a slouch hat. A pair of sunglasses were positioned atop his forehead. His rugged appearance surprised Ian, having become accustomed to seeing him dressed in expensive suits. The last time he had seen him this informal was at Hammond's mansion, almost a decade before. Guiterrez, Harding and Wu appeared from the back of the SUV; Wu wore sun faded Khakis, Harding had donned a worn green shirt tied around her midriff and Guiterrez had a simple cool blue cotton shirt. All of them carried a light rucksack, Ian also carried a bag containing a laptop computer. They stood inside the perimeter of a small airstrip; the helicopters were stationed on a pair of flashing landing pads near the rear. A control tower stood erect a few hundred meters away, and a long runway ran down the very centre. Except for the choppers, there were no aircraft within the airstrip. Engineers were running about beneath the rotund fuselages of the helicopters, making final inspections before they left. Malcolm could see that plates of thin armor had been welded clumsily to the frame of both choppers. He frowned.

Turning to Tim he had to shout over the roar of the choppers. "Won't that armor weigh us down?"

Tim turned to him and smiled. "Usually it would, but seeing as they're taking such a light load they can handle it. These helicopters are usually used for heavy duty transportation." Well that's pretty obvious, thought Ian as he looked up at the choppers. Each one looked as if it could carry at least two dozen people, if not more.

"You consider it necessary to add extra protection to the choppers?"

"I don't think it will be needed, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows at Tim, who now showed the first signs of irritation.

"Ian, we're not fools here. I do understand that this could be very dangerous indeed. Believe me; we are taking all of the necessary precautions."

"If you don't mind me saying so Tim, I'm afraid that you have not."

Tim snorted. "Well we'll see won't we?"

"Yes. I believe we will," said Malcolm gravely.

Ian was concerned, but pushed it to the back of his mind as they approached the pad. Guiterrez looked pale in the warm afternoon light and was covered in a cold sweat, the choppers only a few meters away, ruffling their clothes and making them stagger. Marty stopped short of their chopper and looked up at it, his eyes blank.

"What's the matter with you?" asked Tim, his arms over his head to protect his head.

"I don't like to fly. It's a childhood thing," Marty shouted.

"You know, you could have mentioned that before we got here!"

"Sorry, I just forgot. The prospect of visiting Jurassic Park doesn't leave much room in one's mind to remember something like this!"

Tim closed him eyes, as if praying for patience. "Well?"

For a moment it looked as if Guiterrez was simply going to turn on his heel and run in the other direction.

But after a few seconds he took a deep breath and climbed shakily aboard the helicopter on the left and looked around, blinking in the sudden darkness. It was surprisingly gloomy inside, the small plexiglass windows let in very little light. He walked along and took his seat along the far wall as Tim, Malcolm, Harding and Wu slowly clambered in, buckling up in their seats and fitting their headsets over their ears. The pilots were scribbling on a checklist and were speaking to the tower, requesting permission to leave. The engineers were running about the landing pad shouting to each other, one rushed forward and pulled the heavy door shut with a _clang_. They were plunged into almost complete blackness, except for the intermittent shafts of light permitted by the windows. Looking out, Ian now saw the men running backwards, away from the blades. On his right he saw several armed men in black uniforms clambering into the other Sikorsky. Soon the rotors became a mere blur and the pilot eased the collective stick upwards. The whine of the engine grew loader in their ears and slowly they lifted into the air, retracting the landing gear as they went.

"How long will it take to get there?" said Guiterrez into his microphone from the back.

"We'll arrive in San Jose to refuel sometime in the morning," answered Tim, who was sitting closest to the cockpit. "From then we'll fly west, over the mountains and on to the island, which will take around an additional three hours."

"What's the other chopper for?" asked Harding, who was checking the straps on her rucksack.

"It's an escort; they'll make sure we get there alright. Just a precaution," said Tim.

Guiterrez didn't look comforted by this news and refrained from the looking out of the window, as they were now several hundred feet in the air, flying over countless suburban houses. Instead, he turned to Ian, who was fiddling with the small laptop computer in his lap.

"I'm surprised that you and Dr. Harding agreed to come on this expedition," he said, turning off his headset so that they could talk privately.

Malcolm didn't answer immediately, but continued to fiddle with his computer for a few moments.

"Truthfully, I don't want to go. But if I'm right, and out course I very well may not be, this expedition is going to go to hell. Returning to Jurassic Park is a very bad idea; its very existence is a bad omen. But humanity is now facing a disease that to our knowledge the likes of has never been present on this Earth, at least not in the last 65 million years. InGen had a several year head start on us developing some kind of cure. Quelling this disease is really the only reason I would ever return."

"You consider it a bad thing that Jurassic Park exists?" asked Marty, raising his eyebrows.

Malcolm slapped the lid of his computer down and turned to face Marty. "Of course I do. And Tim is making the same mistakes as his grandfather had. He still believes that that the dinosaurs are his property. And they very well may be by political human standards, but he believes that because his company made them he owns their very soles and in turn expects them to his bidding, by leaving us alone. But nature cannot be controlled by man; man is at the mercy of it. But the very essence of Jurassic Park requires man to control nature. It simply isn't possible. I told Hammond the very same thing before he ever started construction on Isla Nublar. And now his grandson is making equally drastic mistakes. He underestimates the fact that they are living creatures, however unnaturally they came to be. Trust me; this 'simple' mission is inherently unstable. Tim's little trip will not go as planned."

"How do you work that out?" Marty asked, a little bewildered by the pessimistic view Malcolm had just given on one of the greatest scientific achievements of all time.

"Chaos theory," said Malcolm simply, and then he bent over his computer once more.

"I don't understand," said Marty.

"No, I wouldn't expect you to. But you will Martin, of that I am sure," murmured Malcolm, tapping a few keys on his laptop.

They flew long into the night, going over the helicopter landing patterns and the exact sequence of events that were to take place. Malcolm seemed more detached than the rest of them, observing the situation rather than being involved. He seemed to be calculating, sometimes tapping on his computer, sometimes listening to Tim speak, shaking his head. At dusk the pilot had turned on the large interior lighting, making their work far easier. Tim had lain out various satellite images and infa-red displays of Isla Nublar all over the floor and was pointing to various points on them as he spoke. The maps showed Isla Nublar as a lone island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, an inverted teardrop shape covered in forest. Wu went over what he had to do with the power and computer systems, making sure that they all knew how to do it properly just in case something went wrong. Tim looked highly discomforted by this, stubbornly pressing that nothing could possibly go wrong. They all felt fairly fatigued after a while, but the load thumping of the rotors and the occasional turbulence prevented them from getting any rest at all. Instead they sat in a state of mild drowsiness, each enveloped in their own thoughts, going over what they were to do in their minds. It was almost four in the morning when the pilot announced that they were making their final approach to San Jose, and that they were to sit down and buckle themselves in. Guiterrez looked out of his window for the first time and gave a long, drawn sigh and sagged slightly. He rubbed his shoulders to ease the tension. He looked longingly at the ground as the chopper glided steadily down, eventually coming to rest on the tarmac with a gentle shudder. Tim smiled, and then told them all that they could get out and walk around for a while if they wanted while the Sikorskys refueled. Guiterrez was the first to the door and scrambled out into the night as soon as the pilot opened the door. Harding saw Marty walk slowly towards a slight rise a short distance from the chopper, where the faintest trickle of blue was starting to appear on the horizon, taking deep breaths. Climbing down a little more gracefully, Harding lent against the fuselage of the chopper, pulling her legs up to her rear with her hand, stretching the muscles to release the tension. She sighed in relief and look around as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Malcolm and Wu were having a murmured conversation, walking towards a small diner like building a few hundred yards away. To her left the other helicopter circled overhead, getting ready to land. A light breeze caressed her face and she took a few deep breaths, glad to be free of the cramped confines of the chopper. She heard Tim chatting with the pilot, who was connecting a thick tube to the helicopter with the help of several airport personnel. She walked slowly over the Guiterrez, who was now standing motionless, looking out over the airport.

"Motion sickness?" she asked as she reached his side. Guiterrez seemed momentarily surprised by her sudden appearance, but then a smile spread across his face.

"No, I had an accident when I was a kid," he said slowly.

"What happened?"

"Well, I was on holiday. My dad rented a plane for the weekend, we were flying around Canada. On our last day as we were flying back we hit a flock of birds. The windshield just shattered, there was glass everywhere. My dad was all messed up, so I had to land the plane myself. We only just made it, but my dad lost his vision. I haven't flown since," he said simply with a small shrug. Harding just stood for a moment, taking in what he had just said.

"You didn't seem bothered when we were on the jet."

"I didn't have time to think about it. But I had all night to remember," he said, laughing.

"Why did you agree to come then?" she asked.

"Are you kidding?" he laughed, harder. "Who would pass up a chance to go Jurassic Park? And we may very well be saving humanity here."

"Fair enough", Harding said. They both stood in silence for a while. The sun had just broken the horizon, the sky turning from blue to shades of gold and pink, throwing everything into silhouette. It was a beautiful sight; everything was silent except for the occasional twitter of tropical birds. Behind them they heard the other Sikorsky touch down, the engine dying with a low whine. Tim came to stand beside them both, rubbing his hands together briefly.

"We'll be ready to go in no time. This time tomorrow we'll be back in New York and nobody will ever know what happened," he said with a smile.

"What do you think of this whole thing?" said Wu as he and Malcolm pushed open the doors of the diner, a strong smell of cooking fat reached their nostrils.

"Well, I can pretty much guarantee that something of this carefully planned out mission that Tim has set up here will go horribly wrong at some point," answered Ian as they ordered food and coffee for everybody.

Wu frowned. "Surely Chaos Theory cannot come into play in something as simple as this?"

"Hammond said the very same thing when I first told him that Jurassic Park wouldn't work. Systems such as this are simply too unpredictable to be considered plausible."

"But we aren't trying to control anything here, like we were before. We're simply extracting some research data."

"And yet Tim expects no trouble from the dinosaurs simply because he owns them. He underestimates them, he doesn't expect them to act the way a living thing will act. To act _alive_. In short, he is trying to put a measure of control over something that is inherently unpredictable. Uncontrollable."

"I hope to god that you are wrong," sighed Wu, taking the food from the clerk over the counter.

Malcolm turned towards the door to look out at the sunrise. "As do I."

"Malcolm thinks that something will go wrong", said Marty, turning to face Tim.

"Yes, well Ian is famous for his pessimism, you must see that by now," answered Tim, seemingly unfazed.

"I don't know Tim, Ian's usually correct in his predictions," Sarah said.

"Yes well I think it's safe to say that he is human like the rest of us and he makes mistakes from time to time. After all, what we are attempting to do here it far less ambitious than what my grandfather attempted," said Tim, now a little irked. Harding and Guiterrez shared a look, and then looked away. Wu and Malcolm had exited the diner building and were now approaching the group carrying several brown shapeless packages, which were made translucent by grease.

"They didn't have much in the way of a good hot meal, but I got us some cheeseburgers and coffee," said Wu with a small laugh. They all took a wrapped burger and a steaming cup of coffee appreciatively.

"Oh thank god," said Guiterrez, unwrapping his burger and taking a large bite. He sighed as the food reached his stomach. Even this impossibly greasy junk food seemed appetizing after so long cooped up in the helicopter.

"I got you a veggie burger," said Ian, handing it to Harding. "Although, I'm starting to wonder why I bothered. I doubt there's any real meat in these things anyway." They all gave a brief chuckle as they tucked in hungrily. The pilot called over to them from the chopper; they had finished refueling.

Tim took a gulp of coffee and threw the cup into the waste bin. "Okay guys, let's go,"

Ian looked down at the mountainous terrain below as they soared overhead. They were now flying west, over the highlands of Costa Rica. The terrain had obviously once been rich rainforest, but now the landscape was bare and ground up. Tiny stumps of once great trees were littered everywhere. Malcolm shook his head.

"The deforestation is this area is almost unbelievable" he said into his microphone. "Once more man shows his arrogance in the face of nature, never thinking of the consequences." The others remained silent, but Guiterrez looked slightly amused that Malcolm had managed to keep this constant flow of pessimism up since they had left. Tim however, looked slightly more annoyed than he had done when they had stopped a few hours before. The chopper climbed steeply as they crested the mountain's peak, to reveal miles of pristine jungle in every direction.

"But at least hope remains," smiled Malcolm, staring at the endless jungle before them. They soared downwards, accelerating. They only stopped losing altitude when the belly of the Sikorsky was a mere five feet from the tops of the trees below. Trees whipped past below as they went faster still. In the distance he could see that the tree line ended abruptly to give way to an endless blue mass. They had reached the coastline. Ian was surprised to see that the other chopper had managed to keep up with them, skimming the treetops to their right. It was almost seven in the morning now and the sun shone brightly to the East.

"Mr. Murphy, we're just passing over the Cabo Blanco Biological Reserve now, it will only be an hour or so before we arrive on the island," said the pilot.

"That's where the guy was found," said Guiterrez, looking down as they passed over a crescent of pure white sand, his fears of flying momentarily forgotten. "The guy who died in the hospital that night. I sure hope that nothing else has washed up." But as he scanned the beach he saw no dark shapes, just endless pristine sand. Then the beach was gone; they were past the mainland. They were now passing over clear water, a coral reef visible below. Soon the sea turned a deeper blue, reflecting the sunlight magnificently. Martin sat back in his seat as they flew out into the ocean beyond.


	11. Chapter 9: BioSyn

Chapter 9

**Biosyn**

Lewis Dodgson waited patiently at the small table insidea dingy little café, trying to control his temper. He whistled through his teeth, tapping a brown envelope on the table, looking around the room. There was a bar running along the centre, lined with stools, of which only two were occupied. A pair of old truckers were hunched over plates containing mountains of bacon and eggs, making quite a lot of noise as they ate. Dull neon lights were flickering above them, illuminating a gritty menu. A radio stood behind the bar, which hissed with static, occasionally jumping to a snippet of song as it picked up intermittent signals. Dodson was in his late forties, and balding. His face had become lined and set, lessening his previous baby faced looks. Dodgson had worked for the Biosyn Corporation for the better part of his entire academic career. Biosyn had once been one of the greatest biotech companies in the world, but they did not do it honestly. Many of the products that Biosyn created were obtained by Industrial Espionage, by what Dodgson was known for; reverse engineering.

Dodson was famous throughout the world for his ruthlessness, especially when it came to acquiring new technologies. In truth, he would steal the research of other people and change it just enough to avoid patent infringements, then claim it as his own. But he was remarkably skilled at not being caught in the act; he hardly ever left any evidence behind. The exception being the time that he had been caught illegally testing a rabies vaccination on farmers in Chile, without telling the subjects what was going to happen to them. But he had avoided punishment; the farmers were simple peasants and were easily dismissed by a generous amount of compensation. Despite his bad reputation, every biotechnology company needed a man such a Dodgson if they were to be successful. But these days it was hard to come out on top, there were simply so many biotechnology companies, all racing to make as much money as possible. Everything original had been done, demand for new biotechnologies was diminishing. Scientists across the globe were searching fervently for some new angle, some new way to exploit nature's resources. But Dodgson had never forgotten his true dream; InGen's technological wonder. He had tried, time and time again, over years, to acquire such technology. He had been thwarted every time. But now, he had finally discovered his opportunity to get what he had wanted for so long.

Rossiter pulled up outside the café, looking grimly in through the window. Dodgson was already there, sitting at one of the tables, looking as daunting as ever. Being the director of Biosyn, Rossiter knew that he needed a man like Dodgson, but he avoided him as much as possible. Dodgson made him feel tense, agitated. He was always cutting corners in his research and taking unnecessary risks, rash decisions. But Rossiter had to admit that Dodgson was responsible for the bulk of Biosyn's success. He was very good at what he did. He climbed out of his Rolls Royce, slamming the door shut. He walked briskly across to the entrance of the café, grunting to himself, and pulled the door open. Inside it was mostly empty, but the radio static made it hard to hear much. He walked over to Dodgson and pulled up a chair.

"Why did you need to meet me in this fucking dump?" he asked irritably, and sat down.

"Because," said Dodgson patiently, "we have something important to discuss, and I don't want to be overheard. Look, more and more biotech companies are being announced, and it's getting old. People just aren't as interested as they once were about biotechnology. It's all been done. But what I've found could bring us back from the realm of stagnant development. Something that could make all of our previous endeavors seem insignificant."

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about InGen. My sources have-"

"InGen? Oh, hell no, Dodgson. Hell no. We've been over this dozens of times. You've tried time and time again to get your hands on their research, and every time you've failed miserably. We paid three quarters of a million dollars to that Nedry character, with nothing to show for it. We tried to purchase their hardware technology, which wasn't for sale, when you said it would be. You tried to buy the company when it filed for chapter 11. You even tried to blackmail that Chinese investor into getting the research for us when Hammond died. Admit it, every attempt we've made to get at this to get they're technology has been a complete goddamn failure."

"Yes, it has been. But the point is that we keep trying, because it's still worth it. This technology is priceless."

Rossiter scowled.

"What scheme have you hatched this time? I thought you told me that there weren't any other ways to get the technology; InGen destroyed all its data and Isla Sorna is under heavy guard by the Costa Rican government."

"Entirely true, yes. But things have changed. As I was saying, before you interrupted me, my sources have confirmed that a remarkable new opportunity has arisen."

Dodgson paused and pulled out a large piece of A3 sized paper from the brown envelope in his hand, which had been folded up. He quickly unfolded it and laid it flat on the table. It was a large printout of a topographical map. It was an island shaped like an inverted teardrop, and was overlaid with red concentric circles.

"What's this?" Rossiter asked blankly.

"That, is Jurassic Park," said Dodgson coolly.

"Impossible. It was destroyed years ago."

"Apparently not. I have some close friends at InGen, and they fortunately overheard something very fortunate."

"Stop sugar coating this," snapped Rossiter.

Dodgson shrugged indifferently. "Alright; I had the place bugged. I've got a recorded conversation to prove it." He withdrew a tape recorder from his pocket and hit the play button. A scratchy voice emanated from it.

"Isla Nublar still exists to this day," said the recording of Tim Murphy's voice. Dodgson hit the fast forward button and the machine gave a whirring squeal, and then settled back into place.

"Over the years, my grandfather collected information from many satellite passes. Over time he learned the typical ranges and nesting sites of all of the dinosaur species on the island, which you can see here, as the red dots and circles here," Tim's voice continued.

Rossiter looked impressed.

"When my contact heard this he managed to recover the map Murphy was mentioning. Right here, on this map, we have the locations of every nesting site of all of the dinosaur species. We can go in, get live embryos and leave, without anybody noticing, without the risk of being caught like on Isla Sorna."

"How do you plan on getting embryos?"

"You heard the tape. These red circles are they're nesting sites, we can simply go in, take an egg and leave."

"You're going to just march into the nest of a dinosaur and take its egg?" Rossiter said incredulously.

"Yes. I am."

"How in the hell are you planning to pull that off? They'll kill you."

"Let me worry about that."

Rossiter shrugged; Dodgson was always so secretive about his little plans.

"Wait, what was that conversation about at InGen?" he said.

"Apparently, the dinosaurs have contracted a mortal disease; they're going down to Isla Nublar to try and find a cure, before the Costa Rican's destroy the island. This is why we need to get there, fast."

"Won't these embryos carry the same disease?"

Dodgson shook his head. "No. This disease cannot be passed on to offspring. It's spread by animals that are already contaminated, by biting, or through copulation. An animal can't contract it until it's born."

"Aren't you worried about running into Murphy's group while your there?"

"No, apparently he's only going to be there for under an hour, and he'll be visiting two sites on the island, both of which are miles from any nesting site. I'm confident they'll never know we were there."

"Why bother? People aren't stupid, Dodgson. They'll know what happened if Isla Nublar is destroyed and then all of a sudden we announce our remarkable breakthrough, and clone a bunch of dinosaurs."

"Wake up, Rossiter. People won't care about that. The only dinosaurs alive on this planet are locked away from humanity. Yet, people adore them, despite the danger. They've swarmed the people involved with Jurassic Park for years, trust me, people would jump at the opportunity of a second chance. If you offer people a chance to view our own dinosaurs, which have been genetically altered just enough to patent ourselves, then we'll be raking in the money. We can build our own Jurassic Park, and use them as test animals. They're totally exploitable, extinct animals have no rights."

"Jesus, Dodgson…"

"I'm serious. I just need your approval."

Rossiter sat for a moment. "You're sure this information is accurate?"

Dodgson nodded slowly. Rossiter stood up, and sighed.

"Fine, go. But this is the last time."

"Don't worry," said Dodgson, "I'll get them this time."


	12. Chapter 10: Jurassic Park

Chapter 10

**Jurassic Park**

The helicopters roared forward, low over the ocean. It had been half an hour since they had left the Costa Rican mainland behind and headed out into the open ocean. The choppers flew along side by side, thirty feet above the waterline, their thumping rotors berating the ocean. Inside, the maps of the island had been packed away, and everybody was making final preparations before they arrived. Guiterrez was staring determinedly at Wu, with whom he was discussing Wu's research on the data they were to recover.

"How close were you to synthesizing a complete cure for this virus?" asked Guiterrez.

"Very close," said Wu, "We artificially induced DX into the bloodstreams of mice and then tried treating it. It was slow work, but eventually we got it right. We had to put everything on hold and hide the evidence of it on the highest level of security in the park, to stop anybody from the investigation team from stumbling over it. Hammond wanted to keep this quiet until we could get an adequate cure for this virus. When I went home for the weekend I didn't expect the entire island to go to hell, but I was planning to initialize human testing when I got back on Monday. But I never got the chance."

"So, it was still experimental?"

"Yes."

"So even if we recover the data it still might not be effective?"

"That is an absolute possibility."

"What odds do you give it of working?"

Wu sat back in his seat, and shrugged.

"I can't say for sure, but the tests went well when working on mice. I'd give it an 80 chance of being effective on humans."

"What if it doesn't work?"

Wu turned and looked him in the eye.

"Then god help us all."

Guiterrez nodded, and tried to refrain from glancing out of the window, and tried to keep the conversation going as long as possible to keep him occupied.

"How long will it take you to recover all of the data?" he said.

Wu brought out a portable hard drive the size of a postcard, holding it up to the light for Guiterrez to see, turning it over in his hands.

"If we don't run into any trouble, I can get the computers online in around ten minutes, but I can't say for sure. I never fully familiarized myself with the system, and it's been ten years since I've used it. Seeing as everybody else that could use it properly is now dead I can't ask for help. But getting the data should be no big deal. Once I've downloaded it to this portable hard drive, I can give the shutdown command and we'll get out of there."

On the other side of the chopper Harding and Malcolm were playing a game of chess on his laptop computer, looking rather bored. They had all grown used to the load whine of the helicopter; they felt that they had lived with it their entire lives. It was mid-morning, and outside the sun was beginning to rise higher in the sky. Rays of sunshine filtered in through the windows, making shafts of light that struck through the slight gloom. It was fairly peaceful; they had all managed to get a few hours sleep, and were revising their objectives in their minds. The pilots however looked uncomfortable, shifting in their seats, running through a final checklist. They had switched their radio off, to prevent any warnings they may receive. They kept glancing at either side of the cockpit, out of the large windows, as if hoping not to see any boats of aircraft. They didn't look happy when Tim had explained to them which maneuvers they would have to perform when they arrived at the island, and how vigilant they had to be. He had spent fifteen minutes detailing that if everything and anything was wrong they were to abort the landing, as the possibility of attack was very real. Despite the fact that Murphy had explained that the noise of the chopper should frighten any animals away, he wasn't going to take any chances. Now Tim was looking out of the window thoughtfully, staring blankly at the water, rushing past below.

He had been going over the plans for the expedition the previous night, and had inspected the infa-red data closer; he was troubled by what he had discovered. Something that made him uneasy, nervous, and sent chills through his body. He was beginning to have second thoughts about the expedition as he went over it again and again in his mind. Although he had refrained from mentioning it to the others, he was sure that whatever it meant, it wasn't good news. He had found that the nesting sites of most of the animals on the island never moved, they were maintained in very specific areas, which the dinosaurs defended aggressively. However, the nesting sites of the Velociraptors had changed periodically. The data had been collecting since the park was abandoned, compiling information from monthly satellite passes. And during the first few years the raptors had decided to make their nests at the southern tip of the island, inside a vast network of catacombs that had been constructed to keep flooding in check. Why they would travel so far from their holding pen he had no idea. But after the first few years the nests had started moving steadily northwards. It was done very gradually, bit by bit. Slowly, but surely. Until around three years ago the Velociraptors simply disappeared from the infa-red scans altogether. Their last recorded location was somewhere around their old holding pen. The Velociraptors had been the smartest and most dangerous animals that had been recreated, and had been a hazard from the very start. But how they had managed to simply vanish, he had no idea. To his knowledge there was nowhere on the island where they could hide, but it was possible that they had tried to swim away, but that was unlikely. It was a complete mystery to him, but he wasn't planning on telling anybody else about it. Malcolm would give him grief about it, give his doomsday speeches. Not that it mattered if the Velociraptors had disappeared, after all, they may have died out. In which case, it was a minor improvement to the island. He was sure that nevertheless, they'd encounter no trouble, so long as they kept to the plan.

Ten minutes later the pilot's intercom clicked.

"We're coming up on Isla Nublar now," he said.

Looking out, laid in front of them, they could see the small craggy outline had appeared in the distance, rising sharply out of the water. The helicopters rotor's thumping became loader as they accelerated towards the island, giving them all a rush of excitement. Everybody was leaning against the glass of their windows, straining against the plexiglass surface to see more. Malcolm and Sarah had stopped their game and the laptop was lying haphazardly in Ian's lap, as he looked out of the window. His face bore a mingled expression of interest and dread, he had promised himself that he would never go anywhere near this place ever again, but the excitement in the chopper was infectious. Guiterrez had momentarily forgotten his fear of flying, and was staring out at the island, his eyes dancing. They came inexorably closer; until they could see that Nublar was vast, stretching for miles along the horizon; eight miles long and three miles in diameter at the widest point, bulging rapidly in the north and tapering to a point in the south. Approaching from the north-east, they faced the highest peaks of the island's mountain ranges, the tops of which were high above them, past their field of vision. The mountains rose two thousand feet from the deep of the ocean, covered in jungle. At their base the sea looked angry, the water was being thrown against the cliff face, making the waves crash and boom, throwing plumes of water fifty feet into the air, before falling back down again. Foam was being thrown in every direction, swirling visibly in the currents as it landed on the surface of the water. As they came closer they could see that the island was shrouded in heavy fog, which clung to the side of the cliff face and gave the island an eerie and ominous look.

"The fog's pretty thick," said Guiterrez.

Tim nodded.

"According to the records of the geologists that worked at the park, Isla Nublar is almost always covered in a thick layer of fog, especially at these northern cliffs. It lies in an area where the ocean currents make it extremely common, which is why it was named Isla Nublar; which literally means Cloud Island."

"Are you sure that it's safe for the helicopters to land in this? I mean, we won't be able to see much," said Sarah.

"If we fly low enough we should be able to keep beneath the fog layer."

They were close now, and the water under them was turning a paler blue as the ocean became shallower. In front of them was a lone rocky outcrop that stood alone, jutting a hundred feet out of the ocean. Its surface was also covered in forest, but far more sparsely. A ring of beach lined its perimeter. The helicopter banked left to avoid it, and they flew around its side. The other chopper banked right, and flew around the other side, out of sight. As they flew past the outcrop Sarah glanced back at it, and something caught her eye. She turned in her seat to look at it, staring down at the surface. Something had moved; something long and black. She squinted, trying to see more clearly. She saw nothing. But she was sure she had seen something, moving on the cliff face. Malcolm had noticed her staring, and frowned.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I saw something down there," she said quietly, pointing through the window.

"You saw something?"

"Yeah, something moved."

Malcolm closed his eyes, as if receiving bad news. Tim leaned was staring at them, and walked over to them.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Sarah says she saw something moving down on that outcrop," said Malcolm.

"Moving? Like what?"

"I don't know," she said, "It was probably nothing."

"Should we turn around, sir?" shouted the pilot from up front.

"No, no, keep going," said Tim.

"Don't worry about it, it was nothing," she said.

Tim nodded and walked back to his seat. Through the window they saw the other chopper emerge from the other side of the outcrop and rejoin they're side. Malcolm still had his eyes closed, but he looked suddenly frightened.

"Ian?" Sarah said, "What's the matter?"

His eyes snapped open, and he gave a cough to clear his throat.

"Nothing, I'm fine," he said, not looking at her. She could see that he was hiding something.

"Ian, don't lie to me. What is it?"

Malcolm shifted uncomfortably.

"It's nothing, Sarah. Honest."

Sarah raised an eyebrow at him, and the side of his mouth twitched.

"Alright, I think you've just proven my theory about this expedition," he murmured.

"How so?"

He turned to look at her.

"I'm sure we'll see soon enough."

They were now only a quarter of a mile away from the base of the nearest mountains, which loomed over them, looking forbidding and mysterious. They could now clearly make out the details of the cliff sides, which were jagged and scarred, with the odd tree growing out lopsidedly from small ledges. Below them the water twisted and turned, smashing against the rocks. The roar of the ocean could now be heard over the beating of the rotors, ferociously slamming into the bottom of the cliff. They could now make out small indentations at the base of the mountains, where the sea had cut away at the rocks over thousands of years.

"How are we going to get past the mountains?" asked Guiterrez, "are we going to fly over the top of them?"

Tim shook his head.

"No, that would mean that we'd have to fly through the fog, and I don't want that. It's too dangerous. We could crash right into the cliff."

"How are we getting through then?"

"There are several valleys that run all the way through the mountains and into the island. And if I'm right, one of them should be just over here."

The pilot adjusted their heading and the chopper turned slightly, rushing forwards. As they came closer a small crack appeared in the mountains, only a few hundred yards wide. At ground level they could see thick, lush tropical rainforest that lined the ground; a small river flowed through the center. A large crescent of beach ran along the edge, a sharp contrast from the cliffs around it. As they flew over it, they could see that the water was calm and still, small waves washing slowly over the sand. It would have been the perfect holiday location, if it were not for the fact that it was home to some of the most efficient killing machines in history. But there was no sign of any life down there, just clear white sand. Then the beach was gone, and they flew on, into the valley. The other helicopter dropped back, behind them, following them closely. The valley was too narrow for them to fly side by side any longer. The shafts of sunlight that were filtering in through the windows cut off abruptly as they passed into the shade of the mountainside. Everybody was looking down at the jungle below them, looking for any sign of movement. But below them everything was still, tranquil. The chopper climbed several hundred feet to clear a small rise that was jutting out of the cliff. It banked sharply, twisting and turning through the tight valley. The pilots were looking around constantly, concentrating hard. Sweat dripped from their foreheads as they glanced jerkily around them, the pilot throwing the stick around with such force that it clanged audibly against the panel. They were going fast, too fast. They could no longer see the other helicopter; they just hoped that they were keeping up. The chopper shook momentarily as a howl of wind buffeted against its side.

"Jesus, why are we in such a hurry?" asked Guiterrez.

"Because," said Tim, "these valleys have bad wind shears. If we stay here too long we could be blown against the side of the mountain."

Guiterrez moaned and clung to his seat, his fingers digging into the cloth, turning his knuckles white. Tim had said it rather casually, but Guiterrez found the words full of dread. That was all he needed, to crash into the side of this goddamn mountain. They flew on, the jungle whipping past below. As they turned a tight corner, a large tree loomed into sight, growing out sideways from the cliff, blocking their path. It was a large palm tree, if they hit it the chopper would not survive. It was close, too close. The chopper would impact the thick trunk any second.

"Oh my god!" shouted Guiterrez.

"Hang on!" said the pilot.

He threw the stick forwards, lowering the collective as he went. The nose of the helicopter tilted downwards sickeningly, so much so that they could see the rainforest below through the windshield. The chopper dived, plummeting downwards. As they passed the tree the pilot pulled the stick towards him. The chopper's nose tilted upwards again, and the trees below disappeared from the windshield. The pilot took them back up to their previous height in one flowing move, the chopper's engine whining from the strain. Looking into his mirror, he could see that the other chopper had copied they're every move, and was close behind them. All the blood had drained from Guiterrez's face, and he sat facing forwards, not moving. After a moment he spoke in a strangled voice.

"Are we still alive?" he said.

"Yes, Marty, we're still here," said Sarah.

The choppers continued to twist and turn through the mountains, occasionally shaking from turbulence. Martin said nothing else, but continued to stare forwards, as white as a sheet. His breath had a rasping, shuddering property. Wu leaned over to talk to Tim over the roaring of the engine, and the howl of the wind.

"Do you think we'll see any of the animals?" he shouted.

"What, you mean when we land?" Tim shouted back.

"No, I mean, as we fly over the island. Will we see anything?"

Tim shrugged.

"Probably. Most of the animals live in the forest, but some of the larger species have no choice but to remain in the open. I wouldn't be surprised if we see a few species of herbivores, possibly a carnivore."

"Are you sure there are no, you know, flying dinosaurs here?"

Tim laughed.

"Flying dinosaurs? The Pterosaurs weren't actually dinosaurs, but flying reptiles. And there was a species of Pterosaur kept here named Cearodactyl. But I'm sure that they could no longer be alive here."

"Why is that?"

"Because they were kept in an aviary, about half a mile wide. Without feeding from external sources, they would have long exhausted their food supply."

"What if they escaped? Could they attack the chopper?"

Tim thought for a moment, and then shook his head.

"I doubt it. They mainly ate fish, and the chopper's blades would keep them away."

Wu nodded and sat back in his seat.

After flying for almost a mile through the twisting valley, they turned a final corner, only to see that the valley ended in an abrupt cliff. They all breathed in unanimously, staring at the rock in front of them. They were trapped.

"Jesus Christ," shouted the pilot. He pulled back on the stick and chopper bucked, the nose pointing skywards. They could no longer see how close they were to the cliff, all they could see were the puffy white clouds above. In his mirror the pilot saw the other chopper swoop around the corner and realize what was happening. It was so close to them that it had to swerve sideways to avoid crashing into them, performing the same bucking movement at the same time. Gradually, the choppers slowed, until they started to drift slowly backwards. The pilot eased the stick back into the middle, and the chopper righted itself smoothly. To their right, they could see the pilot in the other chopper, who was glaring at them, wild eyed. The cliff that was blocking their way was a mere twenty feet from the nose of their helicopters. Marty hadn't made a sound, but he looked traumatized.

"Sir?" said the pilot, "What do we do?"

"Go over the top," said Tim.

"Through the fog?"

"It's the only way."

The pilot nodded, and flicked on the radio. He turned the dial slowly, resetting the channel. Then he flicked a switch.

"Tango 390, this is Golf 625, Big Papa wants us to climb over the top, over," he said.

"Roger that, Golf 625, over and out," said the pilot of the other chopper.

Everybody was grinning helplessly at the message.

"Big Papa?" asked Malcolm, smirking.

Tim laughed.

"It's just a precaution, to prevent anybody from figuring anything out," he said. Everybody continued to smile, trying not to laugh. Even Guiterrez was chuckling under his breath. The pilot raised the collective stick, the engine gave a whine of protest, and then they began to slowly rise. They shot upwards, towards the sky. All around them the forest appeared to be sinking. As they flew higher the forest began to thin out, the rocks covered more sparsely. And then they entered the fog, and disappeared into endless white. They could no longer see the cliff around them. Occasionally a tree would loom out of the sea of inky whiteness, scratching against the fuselage. The pilots were looking around constantly, checking for any signs of cliff, as they had no point of reference to tell them where they were. They continued to fly upwards for several minutes, the whine of the engine growing loader in their ears. The wind howled all around them, making the chopper shudder continuously. The stick in the pilots hand jumped around, and he grunted in effort to keep it under control. Guiterrez had his eyes closed, and was muttering under his breath. Several minutes later they blasted through the roof of the fog layer, and burst into bright sunlight. The chopper came to a hover a few feet above the dense fog, and they all blinked in the sudden absence of the wind. Before them lay a blanket of white as far as the eye could see, stretching out, towards the horizon. The very tops of the mountains poked through; small islands in a sea of cloud. With a roar the other chopper burst through the layer of cloud on their right, coming up to hover beside them once more, wisps of white trailing from it. Tim came up to the partition between the cockpit and the main fuselage, and pointed ahead of them, to an area on the other side of the mountain tops.

"There. If we pass the mountain tops there, we can descend through the clouds," he said.

The pilot nodded, and the chopper's nose tilted slightly and they began to move forward. They glided over the fog, passing the points of rock. Passing them, the pilot pushed the chopper into a sharp dive, the nose of the chopper pointing downwards, the mist filling the windshield. And they plummeted, back into the fog. Beside them, they caught a glimpse of the other chopper copying them for a moment, and then they were once again surrounded by mist. They all felt themselves lighten considerably as they flew downwards, and floated up slightly, restrained only by their seat belts. Tim however, who was still standing at the partition, had to grab the headrest on the pilot's seat to stop himself flying upwards. The chopper was vibrating once more. They were falling fast, unseeing. The other chopper was lost in the haze, but they could hear the beating of its rotors nearby. The sunshine was filtering down, through the fog, giving everything a slightly yellow tinge. Due to the speed of their descent, it wasn't long before they broke through the mist, to see Isla Nublar laid out before them. The pilot righted the chopper, and hovered in position, waiting for their escort. A few seconds later the other chopper appeared slightly in front of them, the nose tilting upwards, slowing the descent. The pilot turned expectantly to Tim, who was staring out of the windshield, his face tense, unreadable.

Malcolm was looking out of his window, bearing the same expression that Tim had shown. Here he was, back at a place that he had hoped that he would never see again. From his vantage point he could see the whole island, trailing away to the south. He noticed that the fog layer was almost non-existent on most of the island. In fact, it appeared to only be on the northern and eastern slopes. Ian turned to Tim.

"Hey, why did we go through the fog if we could have just circled around the edge of the island and approached from the west, wouldn't it have been a lot easier?" he said.

Tim glanced away from the windshield, and shook his head.

"I'm afraid not. The Costa Rican Department of Biological Reserves is watching all the waters around the Las Cinco Muertes island chain, approximately eighty miles south-west from here. If we approached from the south or the west they'd see us and alert the mainland. And we don't want them coming out here to find that the island still harbors living dinosaurs. So approaching from the north is really the only option."

"Ah," said Malcolm.

He turned back to the window, and inspected the island briefly. It was mostly covered with thick, tropical jungle; a beautiful sight. In some areas large fields were visible, like bald patches in the jungle's surface. Several lakes were sprawled out over the land, and near the very center of the island was a large lagoon. Running from north to south was a thin gap in the trees, but it was too small for them to see down into it. But Malcolm knew that it must be the island's river, which ran for miles throughout the park. They all looked around fervently, but at they saw no dinosaurs. No signs of life.

"Are you sure that dinosaurs still live here?" asked Guiterrez.

"I'm positive," said Tim, "it's possible that during the heat of the day they retreat into the forest. Anyway, from this altitude we wouldn't be able to see anything."

In the distance, at the foot of the western mountains, was a clearing which contained the remnants of the helipad that Ian had landed on all those years ago. A spectacular cascading waterfall stood behind it, falling into a pool which lined the pad. To the northwest, they could see the faint outline which had once been the park's main perimeter, and the visitor area. Neatly spaced and elaborately designed, several large buildings were clustered in a large clearing. It was clear that they had once gleamed, spotless. But now they lay crumbling, laced with vegetation. The jungle was slowly reclaiming its land, overtaking the structures. The visitor centre stood crumbled, it's glass smashed. Large pieces of the building had been broken away. A small structure that looked like a concrete shed stood several hundred feet behind it. The Velociraptor holding pen was nearby, and even from their altitude they could see that it was severely damaged. Set aside was a long building, with pyramids of glass lining the rooftops. It was surrounded by a heavy black fence, which unusually had remained untouched. In fact, the building itself looked far better than the rest of the structures surrounding it.

"What's that?" asked Malcolm, pointing to the building.

"The Safari Lodge," said Wu. "The visitor's quarters. It was strengthened to the point of impregnability, to prevent dinosaur incursion in the event of an escaped raptor."

"I thought escape was impossible," said Malcolm, smiling slightly.

"Hammond didn't want to take any risks," shrugged Wu.

"If that place was so strong, why didn't we go there when the power went down?"

"Because it was too far away. As you can see, it's a fair distance from the visitor centre."

"Why does it look so untouched?"

Wu frowned.

"I don't know."

Tim spoke from the partition at the front, still scanning the island.

"The lodge was purposefully separated from the tree line, in case a storm damaged the fencing. If the raptors somehow got out during such a storm that we endured during our visit, the people at the visitor centre and the other buildings could take shelter in the emergency bunker, and the visitors would be safe. So, the forest is taking far longer to retake the lodge, because it was originally separated from it."

Malcolm nodded, and turned back to surveying the terrain.

"Where to, sir?" asked the pilot, looking around at them.

Tim pointed south.

"There. It's a concrete building at the southern tip; you'll know it when you see it. But skirt the edge of the mountains; I don't want to disturb the animals too much."

The choppers moved southwards, running along the western mountain range. They all continued to look out at the park below them, but they saw nothing. The jungle was too dense to see through to the ground. Excitement was buzzing through all of them.

"How much further?" asked Guiterrez, after two minutes.

"Another three miles, perhaps," said Tim.

Malcolm sat surveying the beautifully sunlit landscape, and the chopper seemed to slowly drift away, his surroundings disappearing, as he remembered back to his first visit to this place. He couldn't help a smile crossing his face, as he remembered the words of a proud old man so long ago.

"Welcome, to Jurassic Park."


	13. Chapter 11: Crash

Chapter 11

**Crash**

"Tim, can I ask you something?" said Guiterrez, leaning over in his seat. His expression was strange, a kind of grimaced smile. He looked torn between laughing at what was on his mind and enduring his fear of flying. The corners of his mouth were twitching.

"Sure, why not?" said Tim, staring out of his window.

The thumping rotors were quieter now, no longer under the strain that they had endured when climbing the mountain slopes. They had almost managed to totally block out the whir of the engine, having been in the choppers for so long. They could now speak relatively normally again.

"Most of the dinosaurs that InGen put on this island are from the Cretaceous period, right?"

"Yes, indeed they are. When I checked the records left on archive from the geneticists they found that the preserved DNA had a lower decay factor for earlier time periods. Despite being capable of being preserved for so long, several hundred million years cannot go past without affecting it to some extent."

"So given enough time it disappears completely, eventually?"

"Yes. It was far easier to extract viable material from Cretaceous amber than the previous eras inhabited by the dinosaurs; the Jurassic and Triassic.

It was only with a bit of luck that InGen managed to recover species such as the Sauropods, and the Dilophosaurs from the Jurassic. It was nothing short of a miracle that Compsognathos and Segisaurus were recovered, both of which were from around two hundred million years ago."

Guiterrez paused.

"If most of the dinosaurs are from the Cretaceous, then why in the hell is it called _Jurassic_ Park?" he said.

Tim gave a snort of laughter, and shrugged."

"Your guess it as good as mine."

The jungle whipped past below, a green blur. The choppers glided over the jungle, occasionally flocks of birds exploded from their nests and scattered into the sky. They were racing along the edge of the western mountains, heading south. Below them, the jungle was still, no signs of life visible. But they all knew that somewhere down there, underneath the beautiful scenery, were dinosaurs. The mountain tops towered above them, the vertical cliff face filling the windows on their right. But everybody was gathered at the left side windows, staring down avidly, their eyes darting in their sockets.

They had descended considerably after arriving through the fog and were now flying low enough to see the individual tree tops. Unfortunately, that was all that they could see. Just, endless, uninterrupted trees. Their route hadn't yet crossed any of the large fields that they had seen earlier. They were all surprised and somewhat disappointed in the complete lack of dinosaurs so far.

"So, you're absolutely sure that the dinosaurs are still here?" said Harding

Tim rubbed his eyes wearily.

"Yes, I am. Look, the dinosaurs don't exactly flaunt around in full view. They are in fact very secretive animals, especially the predators. We may see a few of the herbivores here and there, but I'd be surprised to see any carnivores at all while we're here, except maybe after a kill. But unless we pass over one of the grassland areas I wouldn't expect us to see anything, this jungle is thick. In fact, we could fly over this jungle for months and not see anything through these trees."

"Are we going to pass over one of the fields?"

"I think so, if we keep on course. We should pass over it just before we reach the geothermal plant if we're lucky."

"I don't see much of the electrified fences," said Wu from the back, "In fact, I haven't seen anything except for the perimeter fence."

"Well, that had to be strongest. It was a risk that the animals could get into each other's enclosures, within the park. But it was vital that none of them ever managed to escape the perimeter," said Tim.

Several minutes had passed uneventfully.

"How much farther to the Power plant?" said Malcolm.

The Co-Pilot cocked his head to look back at them through the partition.

"Another mile, maybe less," he said.

Ian turned back to the window and took a heavy breath. His eyes glossed over as he lapsed into thought, and sat silently.

He was deeply unsettled by what had happened so far. None of the others seemed concerned, in fact, they all seemed excited. They were oblivious to the signs, the details, and the clues. They just stared on out the window, unknowing. But they would regret not listening to him when the time came. For the first time in his life, he hoped to god that he was wrong.

Malcolm had studied these details for his entire academic career; the fuses of Chaos Theory. There was always a fuse. That was how it always was when you were working with Chaos, it was never obvious, and there were always tiny anomalies, strange occurrences, which led to the inevitable instability. He had been looking for the signs since the briefing the day before.

He had noticed several small inconsistencies, small clues to what was to come.

Most prominent among them was Tim's attitude towards the situation. It was largely similar to Hammond's. He simply no longer took the situation seriously, he underestimated the threat that these animals posed.

His promise to his grandfather had caused Tim to inherit Hammond's mannerisms. He no longer perceived them as a serious threat, because they were his property, he owned them. He had seemingly forgotten that these were wild animals, from the distant past. They were not going to show him any sympathetic behavior because he was among their creators.

This lack of respect for the situation had therefore caused the expedition to unfold with unsatisfactory results.

Tim had acted in haste, and hadn't stopped to think about his actions. He had rushed them all to his Headquarters, and then announced that they were to leave the following morning. Two choppers alone, with only a handful of armed men was far from sufficient so ensure their safety on such a journey. A place like Jurassic Park required so much more than a few guns and men in uniform.

And Sarah's sighting of the anomaly on the outcrop had almost certainly sealed their fate. Not that he knew what that meant. Chaos Theory was of course unpredictable by nature, and while it was possible to theorize the instability of a complex system, the eventual outcome was never foreseeable. One thing was for sure; something was going to go wrong.

In the distance a break had appeared in the trees, where the forest ended. Lighter greenery showed through the broken treetops. As they came closer it became clear that the forest gave way to a vast grassy plain that stretched away to the horizon. They could only just see to the other side, where the jungle began again. This field was far larger up close than it had appeared when they had first arrived.

Everybody had noticed it, and were peering out of their windows to look at it. Maybe now they would see something of interest.

"So, this is one of those deforested areas of the island?" asked Malcolm. He alone seemed uninterested in seeing the dinosaurs. He had done his best to remain indifferent. But deep down, he was concerned. He didn't have time to admire the scenery; he was still looking for the smallest clue, a glimpse into what was to come. That's all he would need, and then maybe he could prevent total disaster.

"Yes, it's severely deforested," said Tim, "But this area is deforested only partially because of the dinosaur's inhabitation of the island. This area was the old home of the Sauropod and Hadrosaur species, and naturally was cleared beforehand to accommodate them. Such large animals simply cannot move in dense jungle, as many of the other species can. Since the park was abandoned the field has expanded considerably, since the Sauropods and some of the Hadrosaurs seemed to have stayed within this area."

"Do you think we'll see them now?"

"Well, we'll find out, wont we?"

The trees below gave way to lush grassland, waving gently in the choppers' wake. The field in front of them stretched away into the distance, a large lake sprawled in the middle, its banks muddy.

"Go lower," said Tim, patting the pilot's headrest repeatedly.

The pilot complied, and the chopper swooped down into the field, only two hundred feet above the floor. Everybody was looking around furtively, looking for any sign of movement.

Sarah was looking every which way, watching for the dinosaurs.

But she saw no dinosaurs; the fields below them were empty, the long grass blowing gracefully in the wind. All she saw was a clump of very tall trees off to her right, at the fringes of the forest. They were completely bare, with no leaves whatsoever. They towered fifty feet into the air, standing in a small clearing just inside the forest. She couldn't see their bases, just their long trunks. But there was something not quite right about them. She frowned. Narrowing her eyes, she looked closer at the trees.

They were rounded and shaped oddly, arching over along their length. And then one of them moved slightly, and turned to face her. Sarah caught a glimpse of a pair of dumb looking, cow-like eyes, a gaping mouth full of vegetation, and a bright red ridge that ran along the top. She jumped.

"Oh my god," she said. In her mind, everything suddenly fell into place. They weren't trees at all. They were dinosaurs. She fumbled in her mind, trying to remember the name of the creature from her childhood.

"Brachiosaurus!" announced Tim, pointing the dinosaurs out to the rest of them. Despite dreading his return to Nublar, he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe overtake him as he stared down at the dinosaurs. They looked far from threatening, almost peaceful.

Now they were all turning to face them, curious of the sound of the chopper's rotors. Their mouths were hanging open, giving them a stupid look. Then the largest of the animals raised its head, looking skywards, and opened it mouth wider. It gave a long, mournful cry, which echoed throughout the land, clearly audible over the beating of the Sikorsky's rotors. The other animals dropped the vegetation that they had in their mouths, and copied the first animal. They all gave exactly the same cry, in perfect unison. The sound was amplified by being given off by so many animals, and made the chopper vibrate slightly. It seemed to go right through them, and sent shivers up their spines.

"Incredible," whispered Guiterrez, staring down at the giants, as their calls welcomed the humans to the island.

"Perhaps they remember," murmered Sarah.

Tim looked up.

"What do you mean?" he said.

"Maybe they remember the choppers that used to come here."

"How would they remember that? They're too stupid."

Sarah gave him a serious look.

"You can't possibly know that. We know next to nothing about these animals. In the few short years that your scientists observed them, they could have only scratched the surface of their lives. Who knows what their long term memories are like?"

Tim nodded, and grinned again at the Brachiosaurs.

"Where are the other dinosaurs?" asked Guiterrez.

"Oh, I expect they're in the jungle at the moment, to stay out of the worst of the sun," said Tim, "We can only see the Sauropods because they're so big. Even though the other dinosaurs are massive, they're comparatively small to the Brachiosaurs."

The choppers left the field behind, and passed over the Brachiosaurs' heads. Jungle surrounded them once more, and they flew on.

Malcolm had surveyed the Brachiosaurs with a faint smile, remembering his first encounter with the majestic animals. But he had found the absence of other animals disturbing. If the dinosaurs weren't out in the open, and in the forest, then they could be anywhere. And in this vast ocean of trees, they would never find them. This would make landing far more hazardous, anything could happen. He was now very uneasy. Something was going to go wrong, he could feel it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The only question was; how big would the consequences be?

The radio crackled with static momentarily up in the cockpit, and the co-pilot pressed his earpiece closer to his ear. They could hear a distant voice emanating from the earpiece, tiny and high-pitched. Tim stood up and came to stand in the partition again.

"What is it?" he said.

"One of the guys in the other chopper saw something."

"Like what?"

"He doesn't know. Something large and black, flying past their window."

Sarah appeared behind Tim.

"I saw something like that earlier, on the outcrop."

"Put the radio on speaker," said Tim.

The pilot flicked a switch on the panel, and hissing static emanated from the speakers.

"Did you see what it was?" said Tim.

"That's a negative," said the scratchy voice.

"What did it look like?"

"Well, it looked like a giant crow or something."

"How big was it?"

"I'm not sure. About thirty feet long."

Tim frowned.

"Pterosaurs?" asked Wu.

"No, that's impossible," said Tim, shaking his head.

Ian hadn't moved, but he had closed his eyes. He was breathing slowly, as he put it together in his mind. They were in trouble, and he had to stop it now.

"Turn around, now," said Malcolm.

Tim turned to look at him, surprised.

"Excuse me?"

"We have to get out of here."

"Why?"

"Because, we are about to have a very bad day."

"I think its gone no-- _Holy shit!_" shouted the voice over the radio. In the background, they could hear the other men in the escort chopper yelling in fear.

"What? What's going on?" asked Tim.

"It hit us," said the Pilot.

Tim ran back into the fuselage of the chopper, and stared out of the back window. The escort chopper was swaying madly. His eyes widened as he saw a black shape loom up from behind the second chopper and strike its tail, causing it to spin uncontrollably.

The black shape turned and flew upwards, and hovered in midair for a moment. Tim stared at it, taking in its features. It was bird shaped, with a thirty foot wingspan. The wing membrane was translucent, and sunlight shone through, turning it a deep red. It had a massive, sharp looking beak, and a long crest that ran from the back of its head. It's feet ended in three razor sharp talons.

"What the hell is that thing?" shouted the pilot over the radio.

"It's a Pteranodon," said Tim, his mouth open. But that was impossible; there was no way that they could be here. They were never introduced to Jurassic Park.

"The rotors will keep them away, my ass!" shouted the pilot.

"Well, they should!"

"What do we do?"

"I have no idea," said Tim desperately. He had never read about these animals from the InGen database. All his clever plans could be undone by this, but he didn't know what to do. They were helpless.

"Chaos at work!" shouted Malcolm, "Nobody ever listens to me-"

There was a shocking impact, making the chopper sway violently, throwing Tim away from the window like a rag doll. He hit the opposite wall hard, and slumped to the floor. Out cold.

"What the hell?" said the pilot, swinging the stick, making the chopper bank sharply.

"There are two of them," said Harding. She backed away from the window as a dark shadow was cast into the chopper, momentarily blocking out the sunlight. A loud squawking sound rang in their ears, reverberating in an unearthly fashion.

Wu ran over to Tim, and inspected him. The back of his head was bleeding from a wide gash. Wu tore a piece of cloth from the hem of his shirt and made a pad to absorb the blood. Then he tore a second strip, and bandaged the pad to Tim's head.

Over the radio they could hear rapid bangs and pops. They could hear the howl of wind; they must have opened the door.

"What's going on?" asked Sarah.

"They're firing on the Pterano-whatsits," said the Pilot.

"Did they open the door?"

"I think so."

"Tell them to close it again, now!"

But it was too late. Over the radio they heard several screams, and then another loud squawk. Sarah ran back to the window, to look at the other chopper. One of the Pteranodons had latched onto its side, and its long beak was thrashing around through the open side door. The screams continued to ring over the radio, along with the whine of the choppers engines, struggling to deal with the extra weight. And then there was a different shout, it was louder, anguished. She watched in horror as the Pteranodon withdrew its head, holding a man wiggling frantically in its beak. It let go of the chopper, and beat its wings in long, powerful strokes, and dived lower.

The man in its jaws was beating the animal on the beak with his fists, trying to free himself. The Pteranodon flew on, oblivious. And then it tossed its head to the side, and released the man. He soared away from the Pteranodon, and for a moment he seemed to float in midair. And then he fell helplessly. His arms were spinning, and his legs were kicking. But there was nothing he could do. And then he was gone, disappearing into the jungle.

"Close the goddamn door!" shouted the pilot over the radio.

"We have to get out of here, now!" said Wu.

"But-"

"Now, damn it!"

The pilot nodded, and turned the stick. The chopper turned slowly. Their escort copied them, and both choppers raced back towards the western mountains. The Pteranodons were no longer visible. They all scanned the skies, but saw nothing.

Guiterrez hadn't said anything during their encounter; he had remained in his seat, and was staring forward. He was blinking slowly. His face was completely white, and he was shaking.

"Are you alright?" asked Malcolm.

Guiterrez didn't answer; he just continued to stare forwards.

A loud bang emanated from the radio. Looking back at the other chopper, Sarah could see that both Pteranodons were circling the escort chopper. She could see the pilot looking out through his windshield, straining to see the animals above him.

One of the Pteranodons folded its wings and dived at the chopper. Its body struck the tail section where it joined the fuselage, and then flew past, flying back upwards. A thin crack had appeared on the tail, running from top to bottom. The men inside were shouting loudly.

The other Pterosaur copied the first animals' movement and struck exactly the same spot as the first. As it flew past, Sarah could see that the crack had widened. Over the radio she could hear a high pitched alarm. The pilot was swerving the chopper erratically, trying to avoid the animals. But it was no use, they were too agile.

The first Pteranodon folded its wings again and dived a final time. It dived down, and this time aimed its beak straight forwards. The sharp tip easily plunged through the metal of the tail, like a hot knife through butter. And then it flew on. The tail of the chopper tore open, bending backwards on itself, and smashing into the fuselage. And then it broke off, tumbling down into the forest.

The nose of the escort chopper span in a wide circle, and began falling. It plummeted towards the ground, swinging around helplessly.

"We are going down," shouted the pilot over the radio, "repeat, we are going down!"

And then it was gone, disappearing through the trees. The radio clicked, and went silent.

"Oh my god," breathed Sarah.

The Pteranodons were now wheeling around to face them, beating their wings powerfully, and accelerating forwards. Guiterrez was sobbing, and had drawn his knees up to his chest.

"Everybody brace for impact," said the Pilot.

Behind them, Sarah could see the animals rising up again, preparing to attack. Any second they would be struck, and would be killed, just like the others.

"What can we do?" she said.

Wu and Malcolm looked at her blankly.

"We can't do anything. All the weapons were in the other chopper," said Wu.

"We have to do something," said Sarah. She scanned the interior of the chopper desperately, looking for something, anything. Nothing. No weapons, nothing to help them. The chopper was practically empty. Outside the Pteranodons squawked. Sarah turned back to window. Both Pteranodons folded their wings in unison, and dived towards her with astonishing speed. She threw herself backwards, onto the floor, and braced herself.

The impact was stunning. The chopper was turned on its side as both of the animals threw themselves against it. The entire wall of the fuselage caved in as one of the animals' beaks tore through. Wind blew in through the gaping hole, and blew all around them. Everybody screamed at once, grabbing for a handhold to prevent them from being sucked out. Wu had to grab Tim by the collar to stop him sliding forwards.

The animals thrashed around outside, and another beak tore through the roof. It waggled about for a second, and then withdrew. With an ear shattering squawk both of the animals launched themselves away from the body of the chopper, and flew off, satisfied. They had done what they needed to do.

Everybody was in hell. The roar of the wind was loud in their ears, trying to suck them through the gaping hole. Above them the chopper's engine sputtered and died. The beating of the rotors slowed. And then it was gone. The pilot grunted in the front, throwing the stick around, trying not to crash too badly. There was no way that they could fly any longer, the engine was dead. Then a gust of wind smashed against them, making the chopper begin to roll.

"Come on, you bastard!" he shouted at his chopper.

But there was nothing he could do. The chopper rolled over, onto its back. The world swirled around them, and they were thrown around wildly. Their feet dangled as they struggled to hang on to their handholds. They were falling, fast.

"Mayday!" shouted the pilot in the radio. "Mayday, we are going down!"

Malcolm was gripping the arm of his chair with all his might, clinging to the cloth desperately. Time seemed to have slowed down. He had time to observe everybody around him. Wu was holding onto a bracket on the wall with one hand, and held a choking Tim in the other. Sarah was holding a chair leg, still on the floor. Guiterrez was screaming at the top of his lungs, wrapped around a pole near the back.

It was chaos at work. After all his warnings, after all his speeches, he was facing the inevitable. Nobody had listened to him, and now they were going to die. He looked out of the window below him, and breathed in sharply as he saw the treetops rise up to hit them.


	14. Chapter 12: Puerto Cortez

Chapter 12

**Puerto Cortez**

The cool salt air sat calmly on the ocean in the mid-morning sun. A gentle breeze blew along the shoreline, and caressed Dodson's face lazily. He was staring out over the grubby dock that was sprawled out in front of him.

The rickety wooden panels that made up the flooring were rotting away, and were laden with stringy fragments of moss. Everything was damp and wet, despite the bright blue sky. A sea bird cried out in the relative quiet of the morning, which echoed throughout the bay. Behind them Puerto Cortez sat quietly.

Four fishing boats were moored up to his right, smelling strongly of fish. They rocked slowly in the water, their sides occasionally bumping into the dock. The water was restless, and was lapping against the shore. A much larger boat stood nearby, black smoke billowing from a cylindrical tower at the stern. Unlike the other boats, this one was swarming with activity. Spanish workmen were running around on the deck, dressed in navy blue uniforms. They were carrying heavy packages of supplies down into the cargo hold.

Dodgson was standing at the foot of hull, his feet squelching on the damp planks of the dock. He was close enough to see the barnacles that had attached themselves to the underside of the ship, forming a thick layer which started at the waterline. He was dressed in shorts and a cheap shirt, and his face was dark and dangerous looking.

His partner, Jack Edgar stood beside him, staring down at a checklist that he had pinned to a clipboard. Jack was thirty two, with a barrel chest, towering over Dodson. He was a brilliant geneticist, who had worked at Biosyn for over a decade. His features were young, and powerful. His muscles bulged from underneath his shirt. He looked uneasy, glancing between the dock and the checklist. He was always jittery for such a strong person, especially in such tense situations.

An impressive Jeep Wrangler stood next to them, gleaming in the sunlight. It had been loaded onto a steel base, with large wires protruding from each corner. A large crane had been swung around, ancient looking and in desperate need of repair. Workmen were in the process of attaching the wires of the base to a massive, rusty hook that hung from the crane. The Wrangler's black paint gave off a high shine, threatening to blind anybody who stared too hard. It was new, just out of the workshop. It had been enlarged, and hardened extensively. Honeycomb panels ran down its flanks, and its chassis had been thickened. Metal struts had been welded over the windows, and the windshield glass had been replaced with a far stronger substitute, which was laced with a thin metal wire. Inside the dashboard had been converted into a miniature surveillance lab. There was a GPS unit, an expensive laptop computer and a complicated radio system. It looked like the perfect off-road vehicle. The engineers had taken a long time to perfect the design; it was exceedingly difficult to compose a vehicle strong enough and fast enough. The engineers had been kept in the dark about its intended use, making it all the more difficult. They were under the impression that it was for extensive field study of Lions in Africa. They would never know where it was really going, or what it would really be used for.

Dodgson was shouting instructions to the men above him, who were blundering around stupidly. He was waving his hands, and pointing madly.

"You there!" he shouted, pointing to a weedy man, who was trying to drag a barrel of supplies by himself. The man looked down at Dodgson, with a stricken look on his face. He glanced around him, checking to see if anybody else had noticed.

"Yes, you!" continued Dodson, "Get somebody to help you, for god's sake!"

"Hey Lew," said Jack, "We need to talk--"

"_You!_ Hold that box upright! Upright!" screamed Dodgson, shaking his fists.

"Lew!" said Jack, turning Dodgson to face him. Dodgson looked up at him, and his demeanor changed in a heartbeat. A smile spread across his face, full of warmth and politeness. Jack hated that smile, it was too pleasant. It always sent shivers down his spine. He knew Dodgson better than most, and he had long since learned how much of a dangerous man Dodson was.

"What is it?" Dodgson asked, still grinning.

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Rushing into this?"

Dodson raised his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we don't know what we're walking into. Why did we have to do this all so secretly? We shouldn't be going alone like this."

"It couldn't be simpler. An hour to get to the island, and ten minutes to unload. Then three hours to get the eggs, back to the boat by two o'clock. An hour to get back. Back to San Jose by six, back to California by eleven. Bang, done, finished."

"Why alone though?"

"If we barge in with a private army, do you think that nobody will notice? We wouldn't want anybody finding out about our little discovery now, would we?"

Jack shrugged. Dodgson was always so good at wriggling out of facing problems like this, and never thought about the consequences of his actions. He left that to Jack.

The crane whirred and squealed loudly as the winch retracted. The thick coils of wire connected to the Jeep's base began snaking across the ground, unraveling slowly into the air.

"Come on, let's get onboard," grinned Dodson, clapping Jack on the shoulder. They both made for the ramp that joined the boat to the dock as the wires on the crane tightened. The Jeep was lifted into the air with a metallic groan. The workmen had finished loading the supplies onto the ship, and were now untying the rope mooring that held them in place. Jack watched as the Wrangler was swung over the deck, suspended in the air for a moment, and was then slammed down lopsidedly. Several workmen yelled in surprise, and had to leap sideways to get out of the way.

"Will you be careful?" shouted Jack to the crane operator, who shrugged indifferently. Jack scowled and stalked over to help the workmen untie the wires from the Jeep.

Dodgson walked up a flight of rusted stairs; his feet slipping on the wet metal, and entered the captain's cabin. He scanned the room briefly.

"Cast off Captain," he said to a portly man who was sitting at the radio in the corner.

"I want to get to the island by the end of the morning, I have a plane to catch, and I can't miss it," continued Dodgson.

"We cannot leave yet, senior Dodgson," said the Captain, "some of my men are not back yet."

"I'll give you another ten thousand if you cast off now," said Dodgson.

The Captain looked up, and nodded. He stood, and took a few bounding steps forwards, crossing the room with surprising speed. He grabbed a phone, and pushed past Dodgson, out of the room.

Dodgson heard the captain's shouts in Spanish ring out of the bay, and the answering calls of the workers. He heard a clunk as the ramp was drawn up, and he walked out onto the balcony. The crane was swinging back into place above the dock.

Deep within the ship he heard a reverberating rumble, which was quickly replaced by a mechanic whine. The smoke billowing from the exhaust pipe above him thickened as the engine sprang to life. He felt them begin to move away from the dock, and a rapid chugging filled his ears. They slowly swung over to the right as they gained momentum, so that they faced the open ocean. The whistle blasted loudly in his ears, which rang out over the bay with an ear-shattering echo. Dodson leaned on the balcony railing, and grinned coldly out at the sunlight water ahead of him. Finally, after all these years, he was going to get what he wanted most.


	15. Chapter 13:  Wreckage

Chapter 13

**Wreckage**

Malcolm's eyes fluttered open in the gloom. His clothes were damp underneath him, and he felt numb all over. He was shivering slightly, vibrating on the ground. But he couldn't understand why. The air around him was hot, almost tropical. He found it hard to breath; the humidity was very high. It was like trying to breathe through a sponge. His breath was coming in ragged, rasping gasps.

His feet tingled softly. He was lying on his back in the grass. He felt a heavy weight on his legs, pinning them to the ground. He couldn't move. He licked his lips thirstily, running his tongue over his cracked lips. He felt a strange tickle in the back of his throat, and coughed harshly. He grunted as pain shot through his head. The world seemed to swirl around him. He breathed in sharply, and closed his eyes for a moment until it subsided.

There was a steady drone of cicadas all around him that filled his ears. Every now and then a frog would croak loudly, breaking the monotonous chirping.

His head was swimming; he was finding it hard to get a grasp on what was happening. He couldn't remember where he was, or what had happened. The last thing he remembered was giving a lecture in Santa Fe, lecturing that pesky group of eccentric students about the failure of Jurassic Park. He had no idea how much time had passed since then, and his memory of events since then were completely blank. But he could tell even from his limited knowledge of his surroundings that he was quite a way from the institute now.

His vision kept jumping in and out of focus, and the colours were smeared into a blur. He stared straight upwards in a daze, unseeing. He was finding it hard to stay awake, his eyes kept closing slowly, and it took him a moment before he could shake himself awake. He was so tired. All he wanted to do was to sleep a little more, just a little more. But he knew that he shouldn't go back to sleep. He didn't know why, he just knew. He tried just concentrating on his breathing, trying to soothe the pain in his head.

His body felt like it had been beaten all over, he felt bruised, and battered. He felt uncomfortable lying on the hard ground; his shoulder blades were aching with a dull pain. He tried to shift his position, but he found that he still couldn't move his legs. But why? He tilted his head slightly to look down at his body, and immediately wished he hadn't. Drumbeats of pain exploded in his head that ran from his forehead to his spine. He gritted his teeth and grunted. He closed his head for a few seconds, and lay there, panting.

A few minutes later he felt strong enough to look again. He opened his eyes slowly, allowing his brain to adjust to the light. He saw his torso sprawled out in front of him. His black shirt was torn and ripped in several places, but it looked ok. His arms hung limp by his sides, shuddering slightly as he continued to shiver. But he legs were nowhere to be seen.

His body seemed to end in an abrupt line around his waist, where a large piece of metal had fallen onto him. For a few panicked seconds he thought that he'd lost his legs, but then he remembered that his toes were tingling. He struggled for a moment, and tried to wiggle his toes. He could feel a tiny movement in his boots. He didn't know if the lack of movement was from injury or lack of circulation, but it didn't matter. He still had his legs.

Above him were broad, leafy treetops. They swayed gently in the wind, dancing peacefully. Dim rays of sunlight were filtering down through the foliage, giving the trees a mystical glow. Very little sunlight reached the floor of the forest, and he could make out very little in the darkness.

He squinted, trying to see through the arcs of sunlight which cut across the leaf litter. He had a vague picture of something large lying nearby. But he still couldn't move. He tried to sit up, to move his arms, anything. But all he could manage was a half hearted flop of his hands.

He listened hard, trying to hear anybody, anything, through the insect chorus of the jungle. There must be somebody nearby, somebody must know that he was here, and why he was here, even if he didn't. He listened for over a minute, straining to pick up the tiniest rustle, ignoring the pain in his head. He heard nothing. He took a slow, long breath, and sighed.

A bird gave a shrieking cry close by, shattering the relative quiet of the jungle, standing out sharply from the usual sounds of the jungle. An eerie silence followed, ringing harshly in Malcolm's ears. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears as his heartbeat rose rapidly. The sound has been high pitched, and elongated. It sounded unusual; he had never heard a bird that sounded like that. It reminded him of something, something that he couldn't put his finger on. He tried to concentrate, but his head was pounding steadily, and he felt dizzier than ever.

He frowned, and listened for it again. He tried to slow his breathing, desperate to hear it once more. He was certain that it meant something. But what was it?

An answering call came a few seconds later, even louder than the first, floating through the jungle from opposite direction of the jungle. Malcolm wanted to turn his head to look for the source of the sound, but he found himself too disorientated to move. He closed his eyes tightly, desperate to steady himself. This cry had been deeper, and more like the hoot of an owl. But it had been rasping, otherworldly. And then he realized that he had heard the sound before, over a decade earlier.

Malcolm's heart sank, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead as everything came rushing back to him. In his mind's eye he saw flashes, snapshots of his memory. He saw the InGen building reception, the conference room, the airstrip, the chopper and Isla Nublar. His breathing quickened as realization hit him. He saw the Pteranodons coming closer, and the howling wind, rushing all around him.

They had crashed. They had crashed on Isla Nublar. Now he understood why he couldn't move; a piece of the chopper must have fallen on him. He didn't know which part, but he was sure that he wouldn't be able to shift it by himself.

He couldn't believe it; he was stuck on this island, again. But what had happened to the others? Had they survived, like him? Had they been killed, or injured like him? Or had they already set off and left him to die? His mind was overcome with worry; he needed to know what had happened to Sarah.

He had to find out. There were dinosaurs around, he was certain of it. And he wasn't going to last long without help in his condition. Every muscle in his body wanted to keep quiet, to prevent avoiding attention to himself, but he knew that he needed to communicate. If the others were close by then they could help him up. His sat for a moment, and gathered his strength. He took long, calming breaths.

"Hello?" he croaked. His voice had been pitifully quiet, and he had barely heard it himself over the ceaseless chirping of the insects around him.

Another deep hooting answered him, cold and menacing in the silence. If he could move, he would have kicked himself. It was such a stupid thing to do.

But he still had to try again. He took a solidifying breath, and spoke again.

"Hello?" he said. This time he voice had been strong, and it carried a long way, easily audible. There was a sudden rustle of movement, and a scrabble of feet on metal. Or was it claws? A small part of him was sure that his attempts to communicate must have given away his position, and now he was going to die. Malcolm steeled himself for an attack, ready to use the last of his strength to fight for his life. But he had never felt weaker, and he wouldn't be able to put up much of a battle. He barely had the strength the lift his arms. The sound was growing louder by the second, coming straight towards him. But the sound didn't sound like the scratch of claws; it was a heavy, dull thudding, like heavy boots. Somebody had survived.

"Ian?" said a familiar voice. Sarah's head came into view, her face full of shock and relief. Her left cheek was sporting a large bruise, which looked swollen and tender. But other than that she looked unhurt and strong.

"Sarah," breathed Ian, fighting another wave of dizziness.

"Are you ok?"

"I've been better."

Sarah turned to look over her shoulder. Now Ian could hear another noise; somebody else must have survived.

"Henry, get over here! Its Ian, he's hurt!"

Wu's face swung into view next to Sarah, smiling. He seemed to have also escaped without any serious harm. He was liberally laden with cuts and bruises, but he looked fine. His eyes were warm as he grinned down at Malcolm.

"Ian," he said, "thank god.

"Could you get this thing off me?" said Malcolm, nodding slightly at the slab of metal that lay across his legs. Sarah didn't answer him. She was inspecting the metal on top of him, eyeing the object carefully, her eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong?" asked Malcolm.

"I have to check to see if your legs are alright. We might do more harm than good by moving it if you have a fracture or a ruptured artery."

She swept the metal with her eyes once again, her eyes darting around, checking the line where his legs ended and the object began.

"What is this thing?" Malcolm said, trying not to move his head as another shot of pain rang through his head like church bells.

"I think it's the left side seat section—"

Malcolm groaned as another wave of pain washed over him, making his eyes flutter rapidly. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, and saw spots of color dance over the inky blackness.

"What's wrong?" said Wu.

"My head," muttered Malcolm, closing his eyes tighter until the pain passed. He looked up at them weakly, and saw Sarah's expression.

"What?" he said.

"You may have suffered some other damage. You could have broken your back."

"But I don't feel anything in my back."

"There's no way to be sure of it."

"Well, I can't stay here; I suppose I look like a tasty treat lying here like this."

Sarah didn't return his smile, and continued to stare at him critically.

"Look, I can't stay here."

"But, we could do more damage."

"I'll risk it."

Sarah hesitated for a moment longer, and then nodded. She turned back to his legs, and stared at them.

"Can you feel your legs?""A little."

"Can you wiggle your toes?""Yes."

"Then you should be alright," said Sarah soothingly, running her hands over the rows of seats that lay over him. Her voice was calm, but Ian could hear the tension that she was hiding.

"Henry, could you help me here?" she continued.

Wu clambered over the pieces of crumpled metal littered around the floor and took position opposite Sarah. They looked at each other for a moment, and then crouched down. They put their fingers underneath the edge of the seats and lifted it just enough to get a firm grip on it.

"Ready?" said Sarah.

Wu nodded, tensed his arms, and took a deep breath.

"Ian, does this hurt at all?" she said, and lifted the metal object ever so slightly.

Ian felt a numbed movement across his legs, and the tingling in his toes increased.

"No," he said.

"Alright, he we go."

She nodded to Wu, and straightened her back.

"Three, two, one, lift!"

They both gave a great heave, and pushed off with their legs. The rows of seats gave a mechanic groan as they began to rise from the floor. Wu grunted with effort as they brought the seats up to chest height, and slowly began to move sideways, down towards Malcolm's feet. Ian felt a cold rush spread quickly from his thighs to his toes, as the blood rushed back into his legs. The tingling began to ease as the cold sensation filled his legs, allowing him to move again.

Sarah and Wu set the seat panel down carefully several feet away from him, which gave a dull thud as it hit the dry mud. They both turned to look at him, Sarah's face full of worry.

"Can you move?" she said.

Ian complied by turning his ankle joint around in a wide circle.

"Yeah, thanks. Now, could you get me up?"

Sarah hesitated. But Ian merely looked at her until she sighed and reached for his head.

She pulled him into a sitting position, and he groaned as another wave of dizziness overtook him. He took a deep breath, and pushed himself onto his knees.

"Take it easy," said Sarah, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Henry, could you grab his other arm, I want to get him sat down over there."

Ian felt Wu grab his other shoulder, and Malcolm slowly got to his feet. Sarah was pointing to a large boulder that lay on the ground a few meters away. Slowly he ambled towards it, supported Wu and Harding.

He flopped down onto the hard surface, and sighed. He felt a little better in his sitting position, and took a look around him.

He was in a small clearing in the forest, which he was sure must have been made by their less than elegant entry.

The chopper itself lay in pieces. The front end of the fuselage had managed to stay in one piece, but it looked like it had been put through a shredder.

A large hole had been torn out of the left section where the Pterosaur had attacked. The rest of the chopper was strewn around the ground. The rotors were twisted, and lay in the branches of a tree at the edge of the forest. The seating and the landing gear had been completely torn apart, with pieces of insulating foam and twisted fragments of metal all over the ground.

Sarah was rummaging in her rucksack in front of him, and Wu sat on a large piece of the fuselage, looking around in dismay.

"Who survived?" asked Malcolm.

"Well, you make five," said Wu slowly, still surveying the clearing.

"Who was it?"

"You, me, Sarah, Tim and the Pilot, who's back there tending to Tim."

"Is Tim alright?"

"Yes, he should be fine."

"Never again," muttered Guiterrez wildly, stumbling over the wreckage that lay strewn around the clearing. His shirt was torn in a wide arc at the shoulder, and his left hand had a large gash that ran across the knuckles. He walked slowly and carefully, breathing quickly.

"Marty?" said Malcolm, watching Guiterrez stumble into the clearing.

"Never again," continued Guiterrez, not looking over at Malcolm.

"Hey, Guiterrez!" called Malcolm.

Marty seemed to visibly snap out of his reverie, and turned to look for the source of the sound. He gave a yell of surprise, and his foot got caught on a piece of twisted metal. He tripped sideways and fell into a small pond of mud.

Malcolm couldn't help but laugh as Marty sat up spluttering, a look of genuine shock on his face.

"Malcolm?" he muttered, stumbling to his feet.

"Are you ok?"

"I, uh—Yeah, I think so," he said as he ran his hands over himself. He walked over to them, and sat next to Wu.

"Where the hell have you been?" said Sarah, bringing a small pocket light out of her rucksack.

"I woke up in the forest, and I've been walking around trying to find somebody."

"Did you find anybody from the other chopper?" Sarah said casually, shining the light into Malcolm's eyes, checking his reactions.

"No, nobody."

Sarah tucked her pocket light back into her bag, and straightened up, staring at Malcolm intently. She turned his head from side to side, inspecting his scalp.

Malcolm felt a lot better than before, but his head was still throbbing. Sarah had knelt down beside him, and was staring at him.

"How do you feel?" she said.

"Better. What's wrong with me?"

"I think you have a mild concussion. You should be alright, as long as you rest here a little while and drink some water. You look dehydrated."

She brought out a bottle of Evian, and pushed it into his hand.

"Drink," she ordered.

"But, I—"

"_Drink_"

Malcolm took the bottle with a shrug and took a look swig of water. He drank for a few more seconds, then handed the bottle back. He could already feel the liquid in his system, and his head began to clear.

"What did Mr. Murphy want us to do?" said the Pilot, coming around to join them. He took a swig of whisky from a hipflask that he had tied to his belt and sighed appreciatively.

Wu stood up and started walking over to the remains of the front part of the fuselage.

"Why don't we ask him?" he said.

Wu knelt down beside Tim, and attempted to rouse him. Sarah and Guiterrez were supported Ian, who was looking better by the minute. The pilot was close behind, looking slightly lost. Wu shook Tim's arm gently, until he gave a quiet groan.

The wound on his head was still bleeding, but Wu's makeshift bandage had almost stemmed the flow, and it had since begun to clot. The cloth was soaked through, and was deep red. Small tendrils of dried blood ran down the side of his face, converging and ending near his chin.

He stirred slowly as Wu continued to shake him, his eyes opening slowly. His pupils contracted and came into focus, and settled on the five of them, who were covered in mud and scraped all over. He frowned. He lifted his head and looked around the clearing. His face fell as he saw the broken remains of the chopper lying on its side, and turned his head to face them, his mouth open.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he murmured, looking at all of them in turn. He stared at them as if expecting them to tell him that it was all a dream. Nobody knew what to say, they just stood there, and waited.

"Oh shit! Not again," shouted Tim, getting to his feet.

"Whoa, you shouldn't be getting up just yet, you have a nasty cut on your head," said Sarah.

"Nonsense, I feel fine," said Tim, brushing her hand away irritably. He looked down at himself, inspecting his physical state for a moment. He reached up and touched the bandage on his forehead delicately, testing its severity. Then he turned to face them, looking shocked and angry.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded.

"The pterosaurs attacked the choppers, and we crashed," said Sarah.

"What about our escort?"

"The Pterosaurs got them too."

"Where did they land?"

"We don't know, they can't be far."

"Did they go down before or after us?"

"Before us."

"Then they should be south of here, we need to find them. We'll stand a better chance of surviving with them."

"Until we're rescued, right?" said Guiterrez, standing up.

Tim glanced up at him, and sighed. His hands were jumping in his lap, and he was breathing unsteadily.

"Nobody's coming?" breathed Guiterrez.

"Oh, they will," said Tim, "but not for at least a day."

"A day?" shouted Guiterrez.

"Keep it down, we don't want to draw attention to ourselves," said Sarah.

"Oh yeah, and we didn't make any noise at all when we came crashing through the canopy," said Guiterrez, laughing without humour.

Tim ignored him, and took a deep breath.

"We weren't due back in New York for at least sixteen hours. It'd take a few hours before they'd miss us. And by the time it'd take to assemble the necessary equipment to come and get us…"

Tim raised his arms helplessly.

"Shouldn't you have had them on standby, in case something went wrong?" Malcolm said.

"It was supposed to be a simple operation. We weren't supposed to be here for more than an hour. Our escort should have been more than enough."

"Obviously it wasn't."

"How are the Pteranodons here anyway?" said Wu.

"I have no idea," said Tim, kicking a stray pebble.

Malcolm straightened up, and looked at them all critically. He scowled, and got gingerly to his feet.

"I would have hoped that you would have worked it out by now."

"Please feel free to enlighten us," said Guiterrez.

"Evidently they arrived from Isla Sorna. I thought it was rather obvious."

Tim sighed.

"Of course; Sorna," he said.

"I was trying to tell you before it hit the fan, but it was too late," said Malcolm.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Would you have turned around if I did?"

Tim glared at him for a moment, and then his shoulders slumped.

"No, he said,"

"You allowed the Pteranodons to live on Sorna after they escaped their aviary?" said Wu incredulously.

"It was believed that they wouldn't be able to make the trip all the way to the mainland, so they were allowed to live."

"But you didn't anticipate a migration to another island, like here," said Malcolm.

"Of course not, this island is supposed to look like the surface of the moon."

"Guys, this isn't important right now," interrupted Sarah, "we need to concentrate on what to do now."

"We need to find the escort chopper," said Tim, standing up and grabbing his rucksack.

"If they're alive," muttered Guiterrez.

"If we survived, then there's a good chance that they did too. Now stop being so negative."

"And then what? Wait for rescue?"

"No, we complete the mission of course."

Guiterrez gave a small laugh, and stared at Tim, shaking his head.

"You're joking, right?"

"No. Look, the situation hasn't changed. The world still faces the most deadly disease in history. If we just hole up and wait for rescue, we'll have done all this for nothing. Plus, we can get to the visitor centre in around ten hours if all goes well, and we can call for help using the island's communications network."

"If all goes well?" said Guiterrez.

"Have you got a better plan?"

Guiterrez paused, and shook his head.

"Alright then. Everybody get ready, we'll set out for the others in five minutes," said Tim.

Which was how they found themselves, walking through the thick jungle. The drone of cicadas seemed to be even louder inside the confined spaces of the forest, and their movements seemed to be uncomfortably loud.

Wu was leading them, wielding a sturdy branch, hacking the foliage out of the way. It was slow work, as the branch was awkward to carry and swung slowly, but they made progress at a steady pace. He stopped every now and then to consult a pocket compass that he had brought with him.

Tim was stumbling along after him, cursing under his breath and scanning the forest around them. The cut on his head had stopped bleeding, but the bandage on his head was still dripping blood onto his face. He was careful not to let any of it fall onto the ground around him.

Malcolm was walking slowly behind Tim, supported by the Pilot and Sarah. He felt a lot better than before, and his head wasn't throbbing as much, but he still wobbled occasionally.

Guiterrez brought up the rear, frequently glancing over his shoulder. He was still in a state of shock after the crash, and he would jump at the snap of a twig.

They could hear the calls of the birds high in the trees, and occasionally a flock would explode out of the canopy. But they all knew that not all of the cries could be birds.

After a minute they heard a crashing sound off to their right. Twigs are branches were snapping, and the sound of heavy footsteps filled their ears. Everybody froze, and stared into the forest just beyond them. They couldn't see more than three feet before the ferns blocked their view. The crashing continued, coming closer. Wu tightened his grip on the branch he was holding, and moved to stand in front of the rest of them. Guiterrez came to stand next to him, and they both stood there, straining to see what was approaching.

Malcolm watched them, panting. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. If this was an approaching predatory dinosaur, then a branch wouldn't be much use. The crashing sound was now deafening,

"Over here," called a voice.

Everybody looked at each other in surprise, and turned back to the underbrush. Nobody dared speak. The ferns in front of them were shaking, and there was a grunting sound. There was a metallic _clang_, and then a brief silence. The blade of a machete swung into view with, slicing the thick leaves in front of them with ease. Wu had to jump backwards to avoid it, and lowered his branch, frowning. The ferns before them were parted in a swift motion, and a tall black figure emerged.

It was a man.

He was dressed in a black camouflage uniform, which concealed all of his body except for his hands and head. He wore heavy boots, which were made of tough leather. The machete he was carrying was as long as his arm. The blade was extremely sharp, and was scratched and battered from frequent use.

His face was young and handsome, with soft pale skin. He had a definite American air about him, and he smiled warmly. He was muscular and very tall, standing at least a head over Wu and Guiterrez. His short hair was spiked up, and his brown eyes sparkled. He looked completely uninjured, and lacked the layer of dirt that the rest of them had.

In a word; he looked cool.

A large assault rifle was slung over his shoulder, looking both reassuring and formidable. The leather strap strained against his chest as he breathed in and out. The weapon looked heavy, but he carried it easily.

A handgun hung in a safety holster at his side. The tip of the barrel was poking out of the bottom, and the grip protruding from the top.

"Thank god," he said in a southern drawl, "I thought I'd never find anybody."

"Who are you?" asked Tim.

"Major John Anderson, sir," he said.

"You're part of the escort?"

"Well, I was."

"Are you the only one that made it?"

Anderson stared at Tim, and nodded slowly.

"I'm afraid so."

"How did you survive?" asked Malcolm.

"Well, I didn't crash with the others."

"What do you mean?"

"One of those flying things grabbed me right out of the chopper, and flew off with me in its beak."

"Jesus," said Sarah, "I saw it throw you into the jungle. How did you survive that?"

"It was pretty hairy. I thought I was done for. But I got caught on a branch pretty high up. I saw my chopper go down a minute later. I climbed down and took a look around."

"Did you find the other chopper?"

"Yeah, I found it."

"And was there anybody else?"

John's eye twitched, and he sighed.

"No."

"We should take a look at it; there might be something we could use."

Tim made to walk past him, but Anderson held up his hand, blocking Tim's way.

"I wouldn't advise it, sir," he said slowly.

"What are you talking about?"

"It was…pretty messy. It'd attract unwanted attention."

Tim stared at him for a moment, and then nodded slowly.

"Well, it's better now that we have weapons," said Tim after a while. "But we need to get out of here."

"Where do you plan to go?" said Anderson.

"We're going to complete the mission, and then we can call for help."

John looked surprised for a moment, but quickly replaced his expression with a look of determination. He nodded briefly.

"Where to then?" he said.

"The visitor centre is north, around 8 miles away, we should head in that direction," said Wu, fishing his compass out of his pocket.

"Wait a moment," said Tim, "you're forgetting the power station. We have to get that online first before we go to the visitor centre."

"Oh, right," said Wu.

"Which way is that?" said Sarah.

"South-East," said Tim, checking his watch. He scowled as he saw the cracked face, and took it off. He threw it into the underbrush, where made a quiet thud.

Wu studied his compass for a few seconds as the needle settled, and then looked up, and pointed into the forest.

"That way," he said.

"Alright," said Tim, "let's go. Anderson, take lead."

"Yes, sir," murmured John, and moved up to the front of the line, his machete held high.

Wu shrugged and dropped the stick he was carrying; it was useless now.

Anderson began to cut the vines in front of them, hacking away at the foliage. And slowly they moved off into the jungle.


	16. Chapter 14:  The Field

Chapter 14

** The Field**

Anderson grunted as he cut steadily through the thick tangles of vines and branches, swinging his machete is wide arcs. The muscles stood out sharply from underneath his uniform, and beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, but he carried on, oblivious. His years of training had hardened him to the rugged conditions of all climatic regions. He had spent two years stationed in the Amazon rainforest, and was used to tropical conditions.

They had been moving through the dense jungle for several minutes, and hadn't encountered anything of interest. Despite the lack of appearances of the animals, none of them doubted that they were not alone.

"Why do you think we haven't seen anything?" said Guiterrez after a while.

"Well, I suppose that most of the predators are hiding. It's much harder to hunt in the morning, said Tim.

"It also helps to be lucky," said Malcolm, smiling wryly.

Anderson had his left hand resting on the butt of his sidearm, ready to defend them if they were attacked. His other arm was slicing the endless wall of foliage that lay in their path.

The others were trundling along behind him, looking around wearily. The forest looked eerie and intimidating around them. Malcolm had almost completely recovered, and was walking easily, but Sarah continued to watch him carefully. They had all calmed down considerably, but the snarls and hoots that emanated from the forest all around them ensured that all of them were on edge.

The drone of Cicadas continued to echo throughout the jungle, ringing loudly in their ears. They could hear the soft gurgle of water nearby. Anderson stopped in his tracks, and turned around to look at them.

"Let's take a breather," he said.

"Are you sure it's safe?" asked Guiterrez.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine," smiled Anderson, indicating the automatic rifle that he had slung over his back.

They all sat down gratefully, and pulled out bundles bottles of water. Everybody was sweating in the confined spaces of the jungle, and needed to replace the fluids that they had lost. Anderson remained standing, and strolled around lazily, seemingly unaffected by the forest.

While they all drank thirstily, Tim stood and walked over to Wu. With a sigh he collapsed to the ground beside him, and rubbed his forehead.

"Are we still going in the right direction?" he asked.

Wu dived back into his back, and poked around inside for a few moments. He brought out his small compass, and waited for a second as the needle settled into place. He nodded briefly.

"Yes, we're still on course."

"You sure?"

Wu gave him a withering look, and stuffed his compass back into his bag.

Satisfied, Tim sat down, and took off his boots. Upturning them, he shook out a few small stones, and massaged his foot firmly.

Anderson was frowning, staring into the forest silently. He remained motionless for some time.

"What is it?" asked Malcolm.

"The trees are thinning out here," said Anderson.

He pointed ahead of them, where thin ropes of light where showing through the canopy. The trees were more sparsely spaced, and there was no tangle of vines on the floor. Tim looked up, and shrugged.

"Must be a clearing, perhaps one of the deforested areas," he said.

"Is it the one we passed over earlier?" asked Anderson.

Tim shrugged again.

"Maybe."

"Should we go through it?" said Anderson.

"I'm not sure. We'll have to take a look first."

A minute later they walked through the jungle once again, moving easier due to the lack of underbrush. Anderson no longer needed to cut their way through the forest, and had slipped his machete into a sheath on his back. He walked freely, but kept his hand on his sidearm for reassurance. They moved much quicker now, and the sound of their footsteps was deadened by the mud.

Up ahead the trees were even thinner, and Anderson sensed a large open space. He could hear a loud honking sound, like many geese.

The trees ended in a sharp line a few meters away, and a last barrier of fronds blocked their view of what was beyond. They could see that on the other side of the foliage was bright sunlight, with no canopy of trees to interrupt it.

The honking was far louder in their ears now, and seemed to vibrate in the air. Now the sound of heavy footsteps joined the honking sound, making the floor shake slightly. They all froze in place before the foliage, and crouched down. They turned to Tim for answer.

"Is it safe?" said Anderson.

"It should be," said Tim.

The honking sound continued, coming from the other side of the fronds. The gurgle of water was louder here too, like a fast flowing current.

"Must be a river," said Malcolm.

"Do you know what they are?" said Anderson, indicating the honking coming from the clearing.

Tim smiled widely.

"Should we go?" said Guiterrez impatiently.

Tim winked, and nodded, still staring ahead. Anderson slowly unclipped the pistol from its holster at his side, and drew it up to cheat level. Pulling back the top of the barrel, he cocked the weapon with a quiet click. He reached up cautiously, and parted the frond with his outstretched hand.

There was a sharp whistle as they all drew a sharp breath through their teeth, and their eyes widened. They stared open mouthed in silence.

"Oh, my lord," breathed Anderson.

They faced a wide grassy plain, with a large river coursing through the centre. Off to one side was a lake, the waves shimmering in the morning sun. The grass was over four feet tall, and was dense on the ground. It danced and waved in the wind lazily. In the distance, barely visible, was where the tree line began once more, almost half a mile away. On the right the mountains towered over the field, the red tainted volcanic rock shining in the harsh light of the sun.

But none of them had noticed the beautiful scenery. They had hardly glanced at it. They were all staring in awe at what was in front of them.

"Holy crap," said Guiterrez, grinning wildly.

The honking blasted towards them once more, ear splittingly close. But they were far from threatened by what they saw.

A large group of duck billed dinosaurs stood a few meters in front of them, grazing on the low lying ferns that were growing at the edge of the jungle.

Almost fifteen feet tall, the dinosaurs had a dark green colouration, and honked mournfully. Running from the backs of their heads were long, tube-like structures that curved slightly at the end. Several smaller dinosaurs scampered around at the adult's feet, giving off high pitched squeals. The grass surrounding the animals had been trampled flat, making a small area where the young could play.

The dinosaurs turned to look at the humans as they emerged from the trees, with pieces of plant matter hanging from the sides of their jaws. They had a peaceful, almost stupid look about them. They continued to stare at them for a few seconds, not moving. When the people didn't move, they simply lost interest and went back to chewing on the foliage. The ground shuddered slightly as their feet shifted on the ground.

"They're like cows," said Anderson quietly, smiling widely.

"Yes," said Tim, "The duck billed dinosaurs weren't especially smart."

The largest of the animals raised itself onto its hind legs, and turned to look at them again, curious of the sounds that they were making.

It looked at them for a few moments, and took a step forwards, staring at them. It was close enough for them to see the faint striations running along its flanks, and its rib cage rising and falling as it drew breath. Guiterrez shifted his stance slightly, and the dinosaur honked in alarm at his sudden movement.

"Are we scaring it?" said Guiterrez.

"Hmm," said Tim, reaching down for a small branch that lay discarded on the ground, "Let me try a little experiment. Everybody, try and stay still for a moment please."

They all froze, looking at Tim curiously. He raised the branch slowly into the air above his head, and waved it from side to side. The dinosaur took another step forwards and stared at the branch.

Tim smiled, and stopped moving the branch. The dinosaur paused, and continued to stare at the branch. It cocked its head, to stare at it with alternating eyes. They could see the eyeball darting around in the socket, searching.

With a flourish, Tim threw the branch through the air, towards the dinosaur. It took a bound backwards, and honked in fresh alarm. The sound reverberated in the long nasal crest, and the air vibrated softly. The dinosaur looked confused, and unsure of what to do.

"What the hell is happening here?" asked Guiterrez.

Tim smiled wider, and dusted off his hands.

"I've read about this from the reports of the animal handlers who used to work on the islands," he said. "They have visual systems that are similar to that of modern day amphibians. They only see moving objects well. If something stops moving, they literally can't see it."

Malcolm moved up to stand next to him, laughing quietly.

"What's so funny?" asked Sarah.

"Oh, nothing. They're just so incredible," said Malcolm, still laughing.

"Does anybody know what these ones are called?" asked Anderson, staring at the duck bills apprehensively.

"I'm fairly confident that these are called Parasaurolophus," said Tim.

"And are these Parasaurolo-thingies dangerous?"

"No, I wouldn't think so. As long as we keep our distance, and don't surprise them, we should be fine."

Anderson nodded, and reluctantly replaced his pistol to its holster. The lead dinosaur was now honking to the others, nudging them in the hindquarters. The group slowly moved off, away from the humans. It turned its head frequently to look back at them, before continuing to nudge stray members of the herd.

"Must have upset her," said Guiterrez, shrugging.

"Look at this," came Wu's voice.

They all turned, expecting him to be standing next to them. But he wasn't there.

"Over here," he said.

He was standing on a small rise on their left, a small distance from the retreating Parasaurolophus. He had his arms crossed, and was staring ahead of him.

"What is it?" said Tim.

Wu turned to look at Tim over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling.

"Words could not explain it," he said.

They all climbed up to him, and followed his gaze.

"Jesus," said Guiterrez.

They all gaped at the view. Dinosaurs littered the ground all over the grassland, feeding peacefully in the morning sun. In front of them was a colossal leg. They all looked up slowly, following the leg upwards. They saw a massive body, mottled brown and dark red. They continued looking up, fifty feet into the air. A long, slender neck curved thirty feet up, and ended in a small, circular head. A slab like tail swung slowly at the back of the body, the whip like tip twisting and swaying. The head moved forwards slowly, and took a mouthful of vegetation from the tops of a nearby tree.

The giant took a single step forwards, and the ground seemed to ripple like water, emanating from the foot. They could see the rectangular; brick sized toenails, and the tough leathery skin, glowing in the sun.

"Brachiosaurus," said Guiterrez.

They all turned to him, surprised. His eyes glanced at them for a moment, and he smiled.

"Come on, everybody knows that one," he said.

Their eyes left the gentle giant, and they surveyed the grassy plain in silence.

There was a small group of duck billed dinosaurs standing knee deep in water, near the shore of the lake that they had seen earlier. Wet plantation hung from their mouths, while others had their heads submerged in the water. They lacked the nasal crest of the Parasaurolophus', and were a mottled beige colour. Their bills were flat and broad, and the lips were upturned slightly, which gave them the appearance of smiling. They stood almost twenty feet at the shoulder, and were almost forty feet long.

"Those ones are different from the Parasaurolo…things," said Anderson, pointing to the duck bills.

"They're maiasaurs," said Tim, observing them briefly.

"Bigger too," said Sarah.

"Yeah, they're almost as big as a two story building," said Tim, turning his attention to the other dinosaurs in the field.

"What are those ones?" said Anderson, pointing to a group of around fifty orange dinosaurs milling around in the distance.

They looked like oversized ostriches, and moved like them as well. They made screeching vocalizations, like excited puppies.

"Gallimimus," said Tim.

"They look like chickens…" said Guiterrez.

Tim nodded, and smiled.

"Yes, they're one of the more bird like dinosaurs," he said.

"So, do you think it's ok to walk through the field?" said Anderson.

Tim hesitated, and surveyed the field carefully. The others waited as he inspected the trees that surrounded the clearing, until Guiterrez cleared his throat.

"What are you looking for?" he said.

Tim didn't answer immediately, sweeping the field with his eyes for a final time.

"These clearings are usually prime hunting locations for predators," he said.

"I thought that you said that the predators wouldn't be out in the morning," said Wu.

Tim shrugged.

"It'd be foolish to just blunder into danger," he said.

They waited for several minutes as Tim continued to watch the clearing carefully.

"Well?" Sarah said finally.

Tim sighed deeply, and scratched his head absent mindedly.

"I think it's better to go around, we'll have the cover of the jungle, and we can climb a tree if something goes wrong."

"Sir that would take far too long," said Anderson, "going around could take us over an hour. Walking straight through is a much more direct route."

"Yes, but it's too risky to walk straight through. We don't even know if there are predators in the grass that we can't see," said Tim.

"Surely nothing threatening could hide in this."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," said Malcolm, and his eyes glossed over for a moment.

Anderson remained where he was, reluctant to sacrifice so much time.

"Are you sure?" he said.

"Yes, of course I am,"

They were all about to turn back to the tree line when one of the duck billed dinosaurs gave a shriek. They stared at the animal, which was turning in small circles, clearly agitated. Now other duck billed dinosaurs were honking, and taking steps back from the jungle, staring into the trees.

The Brachiosaurus looking at the panicking Hadrosaurs gave a long, low cry that echoed throughout the plain. But other than that it gave no indication of sensing danger.

The Gallimimus were screeching louder than before, and were circling around restlessly.

"What's up with them?" asked Wu.

Tim's eyes were darting around, and he was looking at the herbivores with fear. He started to slowly back away, towards the trees.

"Something's wrong," he said, "Run."

"What do you mean?" said Wu.

"Now!"

Tim ran for the cover of the trees, which stood only a hundred yards away. The others were at his heels, shouting questions over the cries of the dinosaurs, but he ignored them.

"Oh, shit!" shouted Guiterrez.

"What?" shouted Tim, over his shoulder.

"Those chicken things, they're stampeding!"

Tim glanced over his shoulder, and saw that the Gallimimus were sprinting across the clearing towards them. The ground was shaking violently, and they all stumbled in the long grass as they ran for the jungle.

The Gallimimus crossed the field with astonishing speed, and ran straight for them. Tim ran as fast as he could, but the dinosaurs were much faster. Within seconds the Gallimimus were on them.

The dinosaurs swarmed them, and engulfed the small group. Tim tried to see through the swirling mass of screeching bodies that surrounded him. He couldn't see anybody else, nor could he hear them over the dinosaur's high pitched screams. He continued to run for the trees, but he had to be careful and dodge the animals.

As he ran, one of the animals caught him in the small of his back, and he fell to the ground, wincing. The roar of the stampeding animals was all around him, and he saw countless pairs of feet stamping all around him.

He gasped in pain, and stumbled to his feet. He pushed on, more slowly this time.

A few seconds later he emerged from the other side of the herd, but he didn't stop. He ambled along towards the trees, where the others were already waiting for him. His back was painful, but he didn't dare stop. As he reached the tree line he launched himself pell-mell into the foliage.

"What the hell was that?" said Guiterrez a few minutes later. They all watched from the tree line as the Gallimimus continued to stampede across the clearing. The Hadrosaurs were milling about, circling their young, and roaring.

"There must be something nearby," said Tim, rubbing his back.

"Well, I don't want to stick around to find out what it is," said Anderson, standing up and drawing his pistol.

"Right," said Tim, "We better get moving."

They moved off along the edge of the forest, looking around cautiously. The roars of the herbivores continued to emanate from the clearing as they moved, but there was no sign of a predator.

Half an hour later they were nearing the halfway point around the edge of the clearing, when a Hadrosaur gave a scream of terror.

With a roar, a large black figure burst from the foliage on the opposite side of the field, and charged towards the Parasaurolophus. It stood eight feet off the ground, and was almost twenty five feet long. Its skin was black and leathery, with a series of white dotted patterns running along its snout.

It charged towards the Parasaurs, its head dipped.

The Parasaurs wheeled in fright, circling the babies, who were screaming in the center.

"I'm glad that you told us to go around," whispered Wu, looking at Tim.

"Me too," said Tim, staring at the predator.

"What is that thing?" Guiterrez said.

Tim stared at the animal closely for a second, squinting in the sun.

"I can't be sure. But I think that it's a Metriacanthosaurus," he said quietly.

Guiterrez snorted.

"A what?" he said.

"Metriacanthosaurus," repeated Tim, "Mid-Jurassic, found in Europe. It's suspected that it could have been the predecessors of species like Baryonyx and Spinosaurus."

The Parasaurs were forming a solid line of adults in front of the attacker. They stood up, onto their hind legs, and roared at the predator. They stamped at the ground, slamming their hind limbs into the mud. Plumes of dirt were thrown into the air, and formed a cloud of haze around them.

The Metriacanthosaurus stopped charging just in front of the line of Parasaurs, and growled. It stamped its foot, and roared fiercely.

Undeterred, the Parasaurs maintained the solid wall of bodies that separated it from the infants.

"They're protecting their babies," said Anderson.

"Yes," said Tim, "the Metriacanthosaurus is too small to take down an adult Parasaur, it's after one of their young. But this defense mechanism is remarkable. It's never been observed, or even suspected."

"Why would it?" said Malcolm, "None of the dinosaurs were allowed to intermingle when the park was active."

Tim shrugged, and continued to watch the attack.

The Metriacanthosaurus was stalking along the line of Parasaurs, looking for a weak link. It roared at them, enraged. But it was half-hearted, and it didn't approach any further.

Encouraged, the Parasaurs took a unanimous step forward, and renewed their efforts in driving the predator away.

The Metriacanthosaurus hissed, and turned away, defeated. It ran back the way it came, and disappeared into the jungle.

"Phew," said Guiterrez, "that was tense."

It only took them another fifteen minutes to reach the other side of the clearing. None of them wanted to stick around for the predator to come back. They re-entered the thickness of the jungle, and were plunged into almost total blackness once more.

"How much further to the power plant?" asked Anderson from up front, drawing his machete out again.

"A couple of miles," said Tim.

"Let's just hope that we don't run into any more trouble," murmured Malcolm.


	17. Chapter 15: Ambush

Chapter 15

** Ambush**

"Where in the hell are we?" said Guiterrez angrily, throwing his rucksack onto the floor and sitting down in a heap.

They had been walking through the jungle for over two hours, led by Wu's compass, but so far they hadn't found what they were looking for.

"I don't understand it," said Wu, scratching the back of his head thoughtfully. "We should have come across the power station over an hour ago."

"And yet, here we are. Stuck in this crap hole of a jungle," Guiterrez pointed out, scowling as he rooted around in his bag for his water.

The group paused reluctantly, panting in the heat of the day. The sun was now high in the sky, and the temperature had risen tenfold. While the trees provided protection from direct contact with the sunlight, underneath the canopy, in between all of the clumps of closely spaced foliage, it was stiflingly hot. Around them they could hear the growls and hoots of various animals emanating from the depths of the jungle, along with the usual chorus of cicadas and frogs.

Malcolm and Sarah sat down together on the floor, and watched Wu walk in circles, waving his compass as though it might change the reading. Tim stood motionless, watching him with raised eyebrows.

"I don't see how we could have missed it," said Wu, pulling out a topographical map of the island and laying it on the floor. The map was laden with contour lines and red squiggles that represented the old paddock fencing. Wu pointed to a small black grouping of squares near the bottom of the island, and beckoned them all over.

"See?" he said, "that's the geothermal power station, and here's where we crashed," he pointed to another spot to the left of the power plant. "According to my calculations we should have found it over an hour ago."

Guiterrez turned to look at Wu.

"Henry, I could swear that we've been in this spot before. We're going in circles."

Wu shook his head.

"No, there are no footprints, or disturbed plantation.

Guiterrez ignored Wu's comment, staring at his hand.

"How old is that compass?" he said.

"My father gave it to me, why?" said Wu, looking down at the compass with concern etched onto his face.

"Oh, I don't know. I was just wondering whether it's been lying around a little too long, and maybe it's _broken_," he said sarcastically.

Wu shook his head.

"No, it was working fine on the mainland," he said.

"You know, a 14 ton helicopter landing on it might throw a compass off a tad," Guiterrez murmured as he took a swig of water.

"It's still our best bet at navigating."

Guiterrez made a comical face, and gave a sarcastic laugh. Wu frowned and threw his bag to the ground, and bunched his fists.

"Hey, what the hell is your problem?" he shouted.

Guiterrez gave a hoot of humourless laughter, and stood up to face them all.

"What's my problem? My problem is that we're stuck here, in this endless jungle, 80 miles from civilisation. Nobody knows we're here, and we have no way to contact them! And now we're lost, possibly miles from where we're supposed to be, surrounded by predators that would like nothing better than to kill and eat us!"

Anderson stepped between them, raising his hands to block their path. "_Calm down, now_," he said. Guiterrez scowled at them, and sat down.

Wu sighed, and turned back to the map, inspecting it carefully. Perhaps it was inaccurate, or maybe his compass really was broken. Anderson knelt down beside him, and held out his hand, palm up.

"May I see the compass?" he said.

Wu shrugged, and handed it to him, his eyes still scanning the map. Beside him Anderson was holding the compass up to the light that was filtering down through the trees, turning it carefully in his hands. Wu guessed that he was looking for some kind of damage, but he didn't know. A moment later, Anderson handed the compass back to him and stood up.

"It looks fine to me," he said.

"You know about this sort of thing?" said Wu absent-mindedly, running his finger along the route that he thought they had taken.

"I spent four years training in South American rain forests, and I had to use a compass all the time."

Anderson leaned against the trunk of a tree, and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. He was frowning, apparently deep in thought. He eyed the map lying on the ground, and his eyes widened.

"Mr. Murphy," he said, "was there any record of a magnetic anomaly on the island?"

"I don't think so," said Tim, "but it's possible. I didn't have time to go through the entire database, and an anomaly would account for the incorrect readings."

"A what?" said Guiterrez.

"A magnetic anomaly," repeated Anderson, "a magnetic field that can create a disturbance in the usual workings of objects such as a compass."

"Where would a magnetic anomaly come from?" said Guiterrez, shaking his head."

Anderson picked up the map, and pointed to the north and west, where the contour lines were most concentrated.

"Magnetic anomalies usually come from specific metals within nearby mountain ranges," he said.

"This seems to be a little far-fetched to me," said Marty, frowning.

"Have you ever navigated yourself halfway across a continent through a jungle like this?"

Guiterrez sighed. "No."

"Well then, leave this to us if you please," said Anderson.

Guiterrez gave an airy wave of his hand.

"Okay, so we know that our compass is broken-"

"-It's not broken, it's just being thrown off."

"Fine, thrown off. The point is it doesn't work," Gutierrez said, "how does knowing that help us? In case you haven't noticed, we're still lost."

Anderson walked forward, and sighed. "According to my knowledge, any magnetic anomaly can account for perhaps one to two percent variation of the needle. Can you add that into your calculations?"

Wu shook his head. "No, I'm afraid that it's too little, too late. If you had told me this earlier then it might have helped, but now...," he sighed, "If you're right, then I have no idea where we are."

Guiterrez snorted. "Oh, great."

Anderson stepped forward, standing impressively in his uniform, his automatic rifle glinting in the sun.

"Ok people," he called authoratively, "let's split up and take a look around. We'll pair up into two's, and try to find out where we are."

"Is that safe?"

"Not really, but we don't have any option. Now, I'll go with Wu. Tim and Guiterrez, you two will go that way", he said, pointing behind him. "Malcolm, Sarah and..." he looked questioningly towards the pilot.

"My name is Rodriguez," he said quietly.

"Right. You three will go left. Meet back here in two minutes. Try not to stray too far."

They split up, and walked into the jungle in silence. Wu let Anderson take the lead, who continued to cut away at the branches with his machete. All around them they could hear the jungle animals calling to each other, and the occasional growl. But they didn't see anything.

They continued through the trees until Anderson called a halt.

"Okay, that's far enough," he sighed, "I can't see this going anywhere."

Wu shook his head, looking ahead. He could see sunshine showing through the foliage. The jungle ended; perhaps it was another clearing. If so then they may be able to get their bearings. He stepped cautiously towards it, and stepped into the light.

The ground seemed to disappear from underneath him, and he gave a yell as he began to fall. Wind milling his arms, he tried desperately to keep his balance, but he slowly tipped forwards, and looked down at a massive grey expanse below him. A sudden jolt at his throat brought him to a halt, hanging over the edge of the grey cliff. Breathing heavily, he turned his head fractionally to look behind him.

Anderson had grabbed his shirt collar to stop him falling, holding him suspended over the edge of the cliff. Wu breathed a sigh, and righted himself.

"Thanks," he said shakily.

"No problem," murmured Anderson, peering over the edge of the grey cliff. He gave a whistle; a vast chasm ran all along the edge of the jungle, made of concrete. At the base it was filled with stagnant green water, full of multicoloured detritus. On the other side the chasm the jungle began again, as suddenly as it ended on their side.

"What is it?" Anderson said.

"One of the moats," said Wu, "one of the secondary boundaries of the individual paddocks. They're placed in strategic locations throughout the island."

Anderson gave an annoyed grimace.

"Well, we can't go this way. Come on, let's go back," he said.

A long, growling hoot came from the jungle from the other side of the moat, echoing through the jungle, reverberating in the enclosed space. It was hardly louder than a breeze, but they had both turned to look into the jungle. A crash made them jump in the silence, coming closer to the edge of the trees. Beside him Wu sensed Anderson's hand snaking towards the strap that held his rifle on his shoulder. He took Wu's shoulders, and steered him gently back into the jungle, putting a finger to his lips. Neither of them could shake off a disturbing and ominous feeling; they were being watched.

"Well, what did you find?" asked Tim.

They had all met up where they had split up a few minutes before, staring at Anderson and Wu.

"We found one of the moats," said Wu, pulling his shirt collar away from his neck slightly.

"There aren't any moats anywhere near the power plant, so it's not that way."

"It's just that...we heard something, on the other side of the moat. There may be something around here."

"Well, never mind that now. What did you find?" Tim asked, indicating Malcolm.

Ian merely shrugged.

"Nothing," he said.

"What did _you_ find?" said Sarah.

Guiterrez laughed. "Let's see. Leaves, leaves and, oh, more leaves."

"What are we going to do now then?" asked Rodriguez.

"Oh, click our heels together and say 'there's no place like home'," said Guiterrez in feigned happiness.

Everybody ignored him, trying to think of what to do. Wu was looking up at the canopy. The canopy. He snapped his fingers, and dived into his bag, rooting around. He brought out a large bundle of rope, and held it up for them all to see. It was a thick, tough rope, easily a hundred feet of it. They all stared back at him quizzically, none the wiser.

"The trees!" he exclaimed.

Guiterrez looked back at him for a moment, one of his eyebrows raised. "We've only been here a few hours, and he's lost it already," he said.

Wu scowled. "No, I mean we climb a tree! If this anomaly can only throw the compass off by a degree or so, we must be pretty close to the power plant, we just can't see it through the jungle. If we get up to the treetops, we should be able to see it."

Anderson was nodding. "Could work," he said.

"Are you kidding?" said Guiterrez, "those trees have got to be over 50 feet high! If you fall you'll break your neck!"

"Which is why we need the rope; if we loop it over a branch, we can hoist ourselves up," said Wu.

"I'll go," Anderson murmured, taking the rope and looking upwards, looking for a suitable tree.

"I'll come with you," said Wu, running his hands over the trunk of one of the largest trees around them. The tree was sturdy and looked stable enough to climb.

"This one looks good," he said, standing back to pick out a branch high enough. He spotted a large bare branch that poked through the canopy a little, perfect for giving them a lookout point over the jungle. He nudged Anderson, and pointed to it.

Anderson nodded, and squinted at the branch. Coiling the rope up in his right hand, and taking a smaller length in his left, he aimed carefully, closing one eye to see it better.

"Step back a little," he said to the others. Wu stepped back, and watched as Anderson began to swing the rope in his left hand in vertical circles powerfully, his arm becoming a blur. The rope began to give off a strange buzzing sound as Anderson continued to swing it faster. He gave a loud grunt of effort, gave a huge heave, and released the rope in his left hand. The rope flew upwards, the coils in his right hand snaking loose. Wu held his breath as gravity overtook the rope, and it shot over the edge of the branch just in time. Slowly, the tip snaked downwards, and Anderson loosened his grip on his end, allowing the rope to find its own path.

Eventually, two equally long pieces of rope dangled in front of them, hanging from the branch fifty feet above them. Anderson stepped forward, and grabbed one length in each hand, and rested his weight on them to see if it would hold him. The branch gave a squeaking groan, but held in place. He grunted his approval, and handed one of the lengths to Tim.

"The rest of you line up and grab the rope," he said.

As they complied, Anderson threaded the end of his rope through the holes in the top of his trousers like a belt, and handed it to Wu, who did the same.

"Wait!" called Guiterrez, "what if something comes while you're up there?"

Anderson considered them for a moment. "Who here has handled a weapon before?"

Sarah replied immediately, "Me. I have to carry one at all times when observing African predators."

Anderson took out his pistol, and threw it to her. She caught it easily, studied it briefly, nodded and tucked it into the back of her jeans.

"Alright, now, on three."

Tim, Guiterrez, Rodriguez and Sarah tightened their grip on the rope, and leaned back slightly.

"One, two, three!"

They gave a unanimous shout, and pulled with all their might. Anderson and Wu were lifted eight feet into the air. The rope gave a fibrous stretching sound, but held. Another shout and they were fifteen feet up. Wu looked up at Anderson, dangling above him, clinging to the rope, and the sunlight filtering down through the trees far above.

A few minutes later Wu's head poked through the ceiling of the canopy, and blinked in the sudden burst of sunlight. Anderson appeared beside him a moment later, clinging to the tree. They both swung their legs over the thick branch, letting it support their weight. The rope went slack, letting the others below relax. They both sat for a few moments, letting the cool air wash over their faces. Then they turned to scan the surrounding forest, looking for a gap in the tree line.

"There's the moat," said Wu, pointing to a long gap to their left.

But Anderson wasn't listening. He was looking up at the sky, which was deep blue, and cloudless.

"What is it?" said Wu.

"Which way would you say is north?" asked Anderson, as if he was a teacher and Wu was a student.

Wu shrugged, and looked at the sky.

"Well, the sun's going to set over there, so that's west. The island it beginning to taper over there, so that's south." He pointed behind them, towards a range of distant mountains. "That's north."

Anderson nodded. "Yes. That's where north should be." He glanced at the compass, and waved in a direction slightly to the right of where Wu had pointed. "Yet that is North."

"So, there is a magnetic field throwing it off?"

"Yeah."

Wu sighed, and shrugged.

"We can't be far from the power station," murmured Anderson, turning towards the forest.

From their vantage point in the tree they could see for over a mile around them. But apart from the odd gap all they could see what a blanket of leaves, swaying in the wind.

Wu frowned.

"We should be able to guess its general direction, right?" he said.

Anderson took out the compass from his jacket pocket, and studied it briefly.

"If this compass isn't broken, and it is only a magnetic field that's throwing off the needle, then the power station should be in a general…" he swept his arm in a narrow arc to their right, "…that direction."

They both turned towards it, and stared at the treetops, looking for a gap. Wu gripped the branch harder and very slowly got into a staggered standing position.

"Wouldn't happen to have a pair of binoculars in your arsenal, would you?" said Wu, eying Anderson's numerous pockets.

"As a matter of fact…" said Anderson slowly, and slipped his hand into his inside pocket and withdrew a pair of black miniature binoculars. Wu took them, and then paused, smiling.

"Wouldn't happen to have a nice peanut butter sandwich in there somewhere, would you?" he asked, lifting the binoculars to his eyes.

Anderson grinned, shaking his head slowly.

Wu scanned the area in which Anderson had indicated through the binoculars, checking every nook and cranny of the forest. After a minute of searching he found it. A slither of grey was poking into view in between a pair of palm trees in the distance, on the very edge of the area that Anderson had pointed out.

"There," he said, pointing to it, and handing the binoculars over to John.

Anderson looked through them, and followed Wu's finger. "That grey thing?" he mumbled, his eyebrows raising above the line of the lenses.

"It's the communications spire," said Wu, taking the binoculars back to examine it more thoroughly, "it allowed the engineers keep in touch with the control room."

Anderson was smiling. "Finally, some good news." He took another look at the compass, inspecting it.

"Right," he said, "even though the compass it being thrown off, we can follow the heading in the direction of the power station. Now, according to this, the power station is North-North-West."

Wu nodded, and smiled. "Ah, we've overcome our first obstacle, a magnificent triumph," he shouted in a mocked pompous voice.

But Wu noticed that the entire forest had suddenly gone silent, and the chorus of insects had ceased abruptly.

Oblivious, Anderson was laughing next to him.

Before Wu could silence him Anderson began to speak again. "Ok, now all we have to do is—"

A yell of terror floated up to them from below, followed immediately by a low, growling hoot. The sound of thrashing underbrush surrounded them on the ground. Wu and Anderson scrambled back into their sitting position to see below the branches. Wu shivered at the scene that was spread out before them.

Malcolm, Tim, Sarah, Guiterrez and Rodriguez were slowly backing away from the tree that Wu and Anderson were in, dragging the rope with them. A few meters away, five dark shapes were looming over them, snarling and hooting. Slowly, the shapes stepped into the light. Their skin was dark brown, with slightly yellow striations running along their flanks, making them look like inverted tigers. They were ten feet tall, and almost sixteen feet long. Their forearms were long and powerfully muscled, with four clawed fingers waggling in the air. The hind limbs were light and springy, ending in a splayed three toed foot. The tail was long, and held high off the ground. Its head was over a foot long, with a mouthful of razor sharp teeth protruding from the ragged mouth, thick droplets of drool flowing from the open jaws. Running along the top of its head was a double edged crest, running from snout to neck in a V formation. Two of the animal's crests were bright red, while the others were mottled with the same yellow as the striations on their sides.

"Dilophosaurs," breathed Wu.


	18. Chapter 16: Treetops

Chapter 16

**Treetops**

Guiterrez stood frozen in place, staring at the approaching Dinosaurs. The five animals were hissing and hooting, their heads lowered and their clawed splayed. They were still some fifty feet away, on the other side of the small clearing, but even from a distance they looked threatening. The safety rope attached to Wu and Anderson was hanging in Marty's sweaty palm, forgotten. Through the shock that had numbed his brain, he distantly registered how peculiar these dinosaurs looked. The head had a 'v' shaped double crest running along its top, making it look somewhat like a grotesque ice cream sundae, which had been flanked with wafers. The lead animal, which was slightly larger than the others and whose crest was a deep blood red, was eying them with hesitant curiosity. Guiterrez supposed that it was sizing them up, judging whether they would make a good meal.

He, Malcolm, Sarah, Tim and Rodriguez were all backing away from the dinosaurs as slowly as possible, one step at a time. Beside him he sensed Sarah reaching for the gun at her belt, but he didn't dare take his eyes off the Dinosaurs. He felt the rope shudder slightly as she let go of it to free the weapon.

"What are they?" whispered Rodriguez to his right.

"_Dilophosaurus Wetherelli_," murmured Tim's voice from behind them.

The lead Dilophosaur raised its head, looking skyward, and gave a deep, hooting growl. Guiterrez was reminded of owl vocalizations, but this was colder, otherworldly.

The other Dilophosaurs were milling around behind the lead animal, apparently unsure of what to do. Guiterrez doubted that they had ever seen humans before. There animals were probably the second generation dinosaurs on this island. But how long were dinosaur's life spans? He didn't know.

Beside him he heard a resonant _click_ that echoed in the confines of the jungle. Sarah had flipped the safety button on the handgun, and had raised it to shoulder level, pointing it at the nearest Dilophosaur. Her index finger was hovering in front of the trigger, but she didn't fire.

"What are you waiting for?" whispered Guiterrez fiercely, "Shoot the damn things!"

But Sarah didn't move, or make any indication that she had heard him. She simply stared at the Dilophosaurs, waiting.

The nearest Dilophosaur cocked its head, now standing thirty feet from them. It surveyed them through a single lizard-like eye, the vertical slit of a pupil swiveling rapidly in the socket. Sarah stopped backing away, and signaled for the others to do the same. Guiterrez cursed under his breath, but complied. When they didn't move, the Dilophosaurs hissed. Hesitantly, almost timidly, the lead Dilophosaur took a step towards them.

As quick as a flash, Sarah aimed at the ground before the Dilohposaur's feet, and squeezed the trigger.

There was a reverberating bang, and a small plume of dirt was blown several feet into the air. The Dilophosaurs screeched in surprise, and backed away slightly.

"That'll give them something to think about," said Sarah.

The lead Dilophosaur was staring at them apprehensively, one of its feet suspended in mid-air, frozen between steps. The other animals were chirping and hooting nervously, flitting around restlessly.

Guiterrez suddenly felt the rope in his hand jerk, and several inches of it slid through his fingers before he was able to tighten his grip. He caught a blur of movement from above and chanced a glance at the canopy.

Anderson and Wu had left the branch that they had been sitting on, and were slowly edging their way down the rope. Anderson had slung his automatic rifle from his shoulder, and had it trained on the Dilophosaurs.

"_Don't move_," mouthed Sarah, staring at them warningly. Wu and Anderson stopped their decent. Anderson made a loop in the rope, which he stuck his foot through so that he could concentrate on aiming his weapon.

The Dilophosaurs hadn't seemed to have noticed Wu or Anderson, and were once again cocking their heads, staring at the group on the ground with alternating eyes.

"What are they doing?" whispered Rodriguez.

"I'm not sure," said Sarah slowly.

The lead animal had lifted its head again. In one fluid movement it snapped its head downwards. With a low whine something flew past his left shoulder. There was a wet _smack_, followed by a muffled yell.

Guiterrez glanced over his shoulder, and saw Malcolm let go of the rope in shock, scrabbling at his face, which was covered in a slipping, foamy substance. Malcolm had his eyes shut tightly, and was yelling in pain. The slippery liquid was giving off a pungent odor, like dried vomit. With a pang Guiterrez realized what had happened: _It had spat in his eyes_.

Tim and Rodriguez hurriedly dropped the rope, and rushed over to help him. But Guiterrez was now the only one holding the rope. Caught off guard, he wasn't prepared for the sudden jolt of weight. He was lifted off his feet, and soared through the air, towards the Dilophosaurs.

There was a sudden rush of sounds. He could hear himself yelling, and the wind rushing against his ears. Anderson and Wu were shouting incoherently above him as they plummeted towards the ground. He could hear Sarah shooting rapidly at the dinosaurs, bullets whined as they ricocheted off tree trunks. The Dilophosaurs were screeching and roaring, and he felt the ground rumble as they charged towards them.

He slammed to the ground as the rope suddenly halted, and received a mouthful of dirt. She squeezed his eyes shut as he was blinded by the dust, and the grit scraped against his corneas.

With a crash he heard Wu and Anderson land in a bush to his left, cursing. There was a massive thud only a foot away from him which made the ground shudder. Guiterrez raised his head, and opened his eyes, blinking out the dust. He nearly screamed.

The head of a Dilophosaur stared back at him sightlessly, with a slightly surprised expression on its face. Blood seeped from a ragged hole between its eyes, drooling down its snout, forming a spreading pool around it. Saliva slid from its open jaws and intermingled with the blood.

Guiterrez scrambled to his feet, gasping. Beside him the bush was rustling furiously as Wu and Anderson struggled to get up as well.

He turned to look at the others. The Dilophosaurs were charging towards Sarah, who was still unleashing a deadly volley of bullets. Another Dilophosaur lay twitching ten feet from Guiterrez. Its body had been riddled with bullets; Guiterrez was worried that Sarah would run out before she could take care of them all.

The three remaining Dilophosaurs split up, and approached Sarah from separate sides. They were too close; she wouldn't be able to get them all. Within seconds they would be upon her.

She blasted another animal to the ground, but as she turned to dispatch the other two, the nearest of them clamped its jaws onto her sleeve. It snapped its head sideways, and Sarah screamed as she was thrown bodily into the trunk of a nearby tree. The gun flew from her hand, and slid away, into the foliage.

The Dilophosaurs turned away from her, and bore down on Malcolm, Tim and Rodriguez. Malcolm was grunting, his hands clasped over his eyes, seemingly unaware of anything around him. Tim and Rodriguez seized his shoulders, and attempted to drag him away from the Dilophosaurs, but his body was lifeless and unwilling to move.

One of the Dilophosaurs rushed forwards, and seized one of Malcolm's legs. Ian gave an anguished yell as the Dilophosaur shook its head, trying to drag him from Tim and Rodriguez's grasp. But they hung on grimly, trying to wrestle Malcolm free. It was a tug of war, and Malcolm was in the middle, blood flowing from his leg.

Guiterrez turned to Anderson, who was scrambling around in the foliage alongside Wu.

"Shoot them!" Guiterrez shouted.

"I dropped my gun, I can't find it!" said Anderson, tearing at the ground.

Time seemed to slow down. Guiterrez looked from Wu and Anderson, searching in the bushes, to Sarah's limp figure, slumped against the base the tree she had been thrown against. He looked to Tim and Rodriguez's terrorized, hopeless faces, and then to the Dilophosaurs, snarling and snapping their jaws. Guiterrez did the only thing he could think of.

He picked up a large stone at his feet, and threw it as hard as he could. It hit the nearest Dilophosaur in the back of the head, which screeched in anger, and let go of Malcolm's leg. Ian fell backwards into Tim and Rodriguez, and they all tumbled to the ground.

"Oi! Yo! Over here!" Guiterrez shouted, waving his arms. "Dinner's served. Come and get it!"

The Dilophosaurs turned to face him, and roared. It was a blood curdling shriek, and a strangling sensation gripped his chest.

"Oh shit," he said, and turned and ran into the jungle as fast as he could. He felt the ground rumble beneath his feet as he pounded into trees; they had taken the bait. They were chasing him.

He tore into the foliage, throwing overhanging vines aside and leaping over fallen logs.

"What the hell am I doing?" he murmured to himself as he threw himself through a dense tangle of leaves, "What in the bloody hell am I doing?!"

His mind tried to throw together a plan, but he was terrified. Wu and Anderson had mentioned a moat when they had searched the jungle. Maybe he could lure them into it. It was his only chance. He just hoped that he was going the right way.

He took one fleeting glance over his shoulder, and put on a spurt. The Dilophosaurs were crashing through the jungle behind him, and were dangerously close.

He darted left around a large tree, and ran on, pumping his legs. His lungs seared with every breath, and his muscles burned from the effort, but he couldn't stop.

The Dilophosaurs roared from somewhere behind him, still very close. Branches and twigs slapped at his face, lashing his cheeks and cutting stinging wounds into his forehead. He tripped over a root, stumbled, and sprinted off again, now limping slightly. His ankle screamed with pain, but he ignored it.

The Dilophosaurs were ripping down everything in their path, tearing after him, chasing him with surprising speed and agility. He wasn't used to such large animals moving so quickly, it just didn't seem right. It was creepy. They roared again, louder than before.

With a rush of relief Guiterrez saw a beam of sunlight up ahead. The trees were thinning out. With a grunt he put on an all-or-nothing burst of speed, and threw himself upwards. He seized an overhanging branch, and swung himself up to safety. He had timed it just right.

From his vantage point he saw that there was only another few feet of solid ground left, before it gave way to a grey cliff face. He had reached the moat.

The Dilophosaurs didn't register his absence in time, and had only begun to skid to a halt when the when careening over the edge.

"Goodbye, you fuckers!" shouted Guiterrez, as the Dilophosaurs soared out of sight, hooting and snarling.

A few minutes later Guiterrez emerged from the jungle, into the clearing now littered with Dilophosaur carcasses. But it was deserted. Wu, Anderson, Tim, Rodriguez, Sarah and Malcolm had disappeared. Guiterrez's heart jumped into his throat as he scanned the clearing frantically. Could there have been more Dilophosaurs? Or had something else dragged them off into the jungle? He ran into the centre of the clearing, vaulting a dead Dilophosaur.

"Guys?" he shouted.

"Up here," came Anderson's voice.

Guiterrez span around, and looked up. Anderson was beckoning to him from a nearby tree, twenty feet in the air. The others were huddled behind him, sitting in the crook two heavy branches.

Guiterrez breathed a sigh of relief, and then frowned.

"What in the hell are you doing up there?" he said.

"There might be more of them," said Anderson, lowering the rope for him to climb up, "and all that noise might attract attention."

Guiterrez grabbed the rope, and climbed up quickly, eyeing the ground around him. One of them Dilophosaurs was still stirring feebly, its ribcage rising and falling shallowly.

"What happened to the other two Dilophosaurs?" asked Anderson.

"Oh, they took a little tumble in the moat," said Guiterrez, smiling to himself.

He lifted himself into a free space next to the others, and surveyed them.

Malcolm lay at their feet, groaning, and clutching at his eyes. Blood was pouring from the wound in his leg. Tim and Rodriguez were tending to him, taking out bandages and ampoules of liquid from Tim's rucksack. Sarah was sitting up to the left, looking dazed and confused. Anderson was checking his gun, which he had obviously retrieved. It was scratched, and the grip was dented, but otherwise looked alright. He put it aside, and pulled out the pistol that Sarah had been using.

"How many bullets do have for that thing?" asked Guiterrez.

Anderson flicked a button on the side, and the cartridge slipped out of the bottom. He turned the cartridge over, and looked at the end. It was empty. He stowed it in his jacket.

"Enough," he murmured, pulling out a fresh cartridge, and sliding it into the pistol, and cocking it. He checked the safety, and slipped it back into its holster.

Guiterrez turned back to Malcolm. He was breathing shallowly, and straining to open his eyes. Rodriguez was bent over him, and was pouring a steady stream of water onto Malcolm's face, washing away the saliva.

"Make sure you get it all out of his eyes," said Tim, opening a plastic bag of sterile needles. He pulled out a syringe, and attached one of the needles to the tip. He cracked open one of the ampoules full of clear liquid, and inserted the needle into it. He pulled back the plunger on the syringe, and drew up a large quantity of the liquid.

"What's that?" asked Guiterrez.

"Antivenin," said Tim, tapping the syringe to get the bubbles out.

"What for?"

"The Dilophosaurus' bite is poisonous. It's carried in its saliva, and its bite. If he doesn't get this soon, his body will start to shut down. He'd be blind within hours."

"You brought antivenin with you?" said Guiterrez incredulously, watching as Tim dabbed Malcolm's elbow with an antiseptic wipe.

"Better to be safe than sorry," said Tim, tapping the crook on Ian's elbow until the vein stood out.

"After all your little speeches about the impossibility of us being marooned here," murmured Guiterrez as the needle sank into Malcolm's arm.

"You'd rather I hadn't brought it?"

"Never mind," said Guiterrez.

Tim pushed the plunger down slowly, and injected the antivenin into Malcolm's system. Then he carefully removed the needle, and packed it back into his rucksack with the syringe.

"Where'd you learn how to perform injections?" said Sarah.

"The InGen archives. It was standard company procedure," answered Tim.

"Is he going to be ok?"

"He should be. We just need to bandage his leg, it doesn't look that bad."

Anderson climbed over, and took the bandages that Rodriguez was struggling with. He slid Malcolm's tattered trouser leg upwards, and expertly applied the bandages, tying it off in a neat knot.

"There we go," said Anderson, and eased Malcolm into a sitting position.

Malcolm was breathing a little easier, and he seemed to be able to keep his eyes open without too much strain.

"I really don't seem to have much luck on these islands," he panted.

Anderson returned to his spot beside Guiterrez, and surveyed the twitching Dilophosaurs below.

"That was a very brave thing you did, Martin," he said quietly, still staring at the Dilophosaurs.

"What? Running for my life?" Guiterrez said, laughing.

Anderson turned to face him. "No, you saved our lives."

"Ah, it was nothing. You would have done the same thing," Guiterrez shrugged.

"All the same, thanks," said Anderson, clapping him on the back.

They waited half an hour for Malcolm to recover, as the antivenin took its course. He was now sipping water quietly, looking a lot better. His leg had stopped bleeding, and his eyes were back to normal.

"So," said Tim, turning to Wu and Anderson, "did you find out where the power station is?"

Guiterrez had almost forgotten about why they were here. The thought hadn't occurred to him until now.

"Yeah, we found it," said Anderson, taking out Wu's compass from his pocket. "It's on a bearing due North-North west."

"Good," said Tim, standing up and looking down at the clearing below them, "I don't want to hang around here. Those bodies are a free meal to all the predators on this island, and for all the racket we made we might as well have rung the dinner bell."

"Ian, do you think you can stand?" said Anderson.

Malcolm nodded, and got slowly to his feet. He put his weight on his leg gingerly, wincing. He sighed. "I'm good, let's go," he said.

Anderson descended the rope first, training his rifle around the clearing. Then he nodded, and signaled for the others to follow. Wu and Sarah followed, and watched Malcolm as he slowly made him way downwards. Guiterrez and Rodriguez were helping him down, ready to grab him if he slipped. But eventually, their feet touched the ground without incident.

Anderson checked the compass, and was about to lead the way into the jungle when there was a rustling to their right. Anderson spun around, and aimed for the underbrush, which was shaking violently. They all held their breath as the rustling came closer.

A small Dilophosaur hoped into view, and squeaked. It was just over four feet high, and around six feet long. Unlike the adults, it had a large amount of extra skin that hung around its neck, and the striations running along its flanks were missing.

"It's only an adolescent. If we back away, it shouldn't attack," said Tim.

But the Dilophosaur wasn't looking at them. It didn't even seem to sense their presence. It was looking at the nearest adult carcass. It hoped over to it, and lowered its head to the bloody holes that riddled its body. The youngster cocked its head, and squeaked again. It nudged the adult's carcass, and cocked its head again.

"It must have been its mother," murmured Tim.

At his voice the small Dilophosaur wheeled around, and roared in a high pitched tone. The folds of skin at its neck flew to the side, and upwards, and formed a massive colourful frill. It roared again, and took a menacing step forward.

With a look of exasperation, Anderson took aim, and fired. The Dilophosaur gave a howl of pain as it flew backwards, and flopped over onto the body of the adult, unmoving.

Guiterrez almost laughed. He took a deep breath, and took a fleeting glance at the dead Dilophosaurs before they all turned and walked into the jungle.

"It is me?" he said, "or is everything on this island out to get us?"


	19. Chapter 17: East Dock

Chapter 17

** East Dock**

Dodgson jumped down onto the deserted East Dock of Isla Nublar, and looked around coldly. The dock was nothing short of ruined; the thick paneling that made up the flooring had long since began to rot, so that in some places the metallic skeleton showed through in gaping holes. The waves were crashing and booming against the hull of the ship, which sat rocking quietly in the afternoon sun. The air was warm and saturated with moisture, making it feel as though breathing through a sponge.

Edgar appeared at Dodgson's shoulder, concern and worry etched onto his young face. Dodgson had no patience for his troubled conscience, least of all right now. They were here, finally, and they were going to make history.

The trees were quiet, except for the light swish of the leaves as they danced in the light breeze coursing in from the ocean. Dodgson made a quick check for any sign of recent disturbance on the ground in the surrounding area, just in case his latest satellite updates weren't recent enough. From what his intelligence told him, the animals here were extremely active, and a few species migrated periodically. He checked for any spoor, crushed leaves, severed fauna in the underbrush at the perimeter of the jungle.

Nothing. The ground looked as if nothing had visited this area of the coastline in several months. But he did see a brief cut in the underbrush a few hundred meters away, a small gap. It was in an area just beyond the dock, where the beach began. Listening hard, he heard the trickle of water. It must be a stream, he thought. The ground that ran alongside it however was disturbed.

From what he could see it looked as if the foliage had been trampled, repeatedly, until it formed a permanent floor. Also, the area of sand in front of the gap was a shade darker than the surrounding sand, as if it had been overturned at some point.

A game trail.

So at least some of the animals came by this area sometimes, for water.

If that was the case then he didn't want to spend too much time messing around here at the dock. If they were lucky they could get to every nesting site on the island within five hours. And then they could leave this godforsaken island behind, and never mention it again.

Behind him he could hear the workmen on the boat unfastening supplies from the hold, and the whine of the on-board crane as it was maneuvered into position. He turned to Edgar, and nodded in the direction of the cabin.

"Go and get that large case I showed you, the silver one," he said to Edgar, and then turned and walked briskly back onto the deck of the ship. He walked past several workmen who were struggling with a barrel full of cables and wiring, and another man panting as he half-dragged, half-carried a portable generator towards the ramp leading to the dock. Dodgson approached the Jeep Wrangler at the rear of the deck, and began unclipping the steel wires that had been used to lift it back at Puerto Cortez. He lifted the clasp on each one, and freed the wires, allowing them to fly upwards, separating them from the steel base.

He ran his hands over the newly painted surface of the Jeep, thinking hard. He had covered all of the loose ends, he had planned it all. It was a perfect plan, a great plan. Get to Nublar by one, around four hours to get all the animals if all went well, back to the boat by half five, back to port by seven, back to Palo Alto by ten. Done, nobody had to know. And then, Biosyn could make their "discovery" public, and make millions. Nobody would be any the wiser.

A few minutes later Dodgson was edging the Jeep down the ramp from the boat that led to the dock, tapping the brakes carefully. The front tires touched the rotting wood, and squealed slightly as they slipped on the metal ramp. He leveled out slowly, making sure that the dock would hold the Wrangler's weight before he put all four wheels on the ground. The wood sank a few centimeters, and groaned slightly.

But it held.

Slowly, he touched the accelerator, and drove out onto the dock, dodging a large hole in the floor where the ocean showed through, and foam spitting over the edge and soaking the wood.

He pulled up next to several workmen who were unraveling a long cord of wiring cable, looking slightly lost. The portable generator was chugging away, and several other men were dragging up portable halogen lights to illuminate the jungle. Dodgson had told them that they would be fine as long as they kept the lights trained on the jungle periphery and that none of them stray too far. That the dinosaurs wouldn't attack a group as large as theirs, as long as they kept their wits about them. Whether that was true or not, he didn't know. And in truth, he didn't care. All of these men were disposable in the light of what was at stake.

Edgar appeared at the passenger door, dragging a reflective silver suitcase the size of a car engine. He was panting slightly from the effort, and was eying the case with hesitant curiosity.

"What's in this thing?" he said breathlessly, "cinderblocks? It weighs a ton."

"Put it on the hood and I'll show you," said Dodgson coldly, and opened the driver side door.

Edgar puffed and heaved as he slowly lifted the case onto the hood of the Jeep, sagging as he rested it down. Dodgson watched him coldly, not offering to help.

"So," panted Edgar, "what's in this thing?"

"This," said Dodgson, taking out a small key the size of his pinky finger and inserting it into the padlock on the case, "contains our method for acquiring our quarry."

"This is going to help us get dinosaur eggs?"

"Eggs? Oh no, we're not going after eggs. We're going after live young."

"…You want to catch baby dinosaurs?" said Edgar incredulously.

"Yes, I do. That's what that's for," said Dodgson, pointing to a small trailer a few feet away, being wheeled towards them by another pair of workmen. It was the kind of trailer that would usually be pulled by a vehicle like an ATV, for storing supplies. But this one had been slightly enlarged, to around six feet wide and eight feet long. It was a dark grey colour, and looked as if it was made from carbon fiber. Smooth honeycomb struts ran up the sides at two feet intervals for extra strength. There were no windows, and the door was small, with a heavy latch under the handle.

"What the hell is that?" said Edgar, shaking his head.

"It's our mobile nursery," said Dodgson curtly, walking over to it. He pulled down the handle, and wrenched the door open. The door swung outwards silently, and clanged against the outer surface loudly. He stepped up into the dark interior, and waited for Edgar to climb in beside him.

Inside there was barely enough room to stand. There was a central corridor running the length of the trailer, which was around a foot and a half wide. Lining the walls were at least a dozen cages, made of thick bars of steel.

"So we're going to go out into the frickin' jungle, wrangle a bunch of baby dinosaurs and stuff them into these cages?" said Edgar with a small laugh.

"That's exactly what we're going to do."

"That's fucking crazy, man."

"Yes," said Dodgson, jumping back down and walking back to the Jeep, "it is."

"That's all very well and good when you say it like that," said Edgar, following Dodgson at a trot, "but don't you think that the parents of these baby dinosaurs might get a tiny bit pissed when we run off with their kids?"

"Ah," said Dodgson coldly, "but that's what the suitcase is for."

He tapped the case lightly, and opened the lid. Edgar came forward, a quizzical expression on his face, and looked inside.

Most of the interior of the case was taken up by black packing foam, which was shaped around several strange objects.

Dodgson reached down, and picked the first object up. It was round, and looked like a sphere which had been squashed into a disc shape. It's brightly reflective outer surface gleamed in the sunlight. The second object was a smaller box the size of a cigarette packet, with the same reflective metallic coating. The third object looked similar to a handgun, but it was bulkier, and had a large round shape protruding at the end of the barrel.

"What is all this?" asked Edgar.

"A little something that we acquired from our defense contractors. They've been working on this in Nevada for the better part of eight years."

"And what is it?" repeated Edgar.

"Our method of catching the infants, and disabling the parents," said Dodgson. He picked up the gun-like object, and slotted the sphere into place on top of the barrel.

"This," he said, pointing to the sphere, "is a special capacitor, which – when coupled with this gun – is capable of firing a specified electrical charge via a laser targeting system. When you squeeze the trigger, an infrared light will be pointed at the target, which gives of a specific signal, whose electromagnetic properties will attract the charge, allowing the electricity to jump from the capacitor to the target."

Edgar raised his eyebrows, and smiled in a confused fashion. "A lightning gun?" he asked with a disbelieving smile.

"In a manner of speaking," said Dodgson, picking up the smaller box. "The charge will run through the target, and temporarily disable its nervous system. There's enough capacity in this thing to take down a herd of Elephants when it's set to maximum."

"So, it's like a TASER gun?"

"Yeah, but it's been souped to shit," said Dodgson.

He took a cable from his jacket pocket, which was also coated in the same shiny material as the other pieces. He plugged it into the grip of the gun, and inserted the other end of the wire into the smaller box.

"This," he said, holding up the smaller box, "is the power source. It's a self contained nuclear reactor, which is designed to run without maintenance indefinitely."

"Nuclear?" said Edgar in alarm, taking a step back.

"It's perfectly safe," said Dodgson calmly, "the metallic coating covering this gear is designed to absorb solar radiation, to stop the radioactive fuel elements from heating up."

"Why do you need nuclear power for this?" said Edgar uncertainly.

"Because to take down an animal this size of some of the dinosaurs on this island, you need hundreds of thousands of volts. To get a mobile way of powering such a device, you need a CND."

"CND?"

"Compact nuclear device."

"Won't a charge that large kill the infants?"

"Certainly, yes. It could easily kill you as well, so try not to shoot yourself with it, least of all while it's on the maximum setting. But that's what this dial is for," said Dodgson quietly, indicating a knob at the back of the gun.

"You can adjust the charge delivered, so put it on minimum charge to disable the infants. Then I'll grab it, and put it into one of the cages while you fend off the adults."

"And if this doesn't work?"

"It will."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Jack, stop being an asshole," said Dodgson irritably, putting the pieces back into the foam casing, and slamming the lid of the suitcase down.

"It will work," he muttered to himself as he stowed the case in the back seat of the Jeep.

"Now," Dodgson said, jumping into the driver's seat and starting the engine, "if we're done with 20 questions, get in the fucking car."


	20. Chapter 18: Power

Chapter 18

** Power**

"Wow," said Sarah, stopping in her tracks and staring ahead.

"What is it?" asked Tim, looking at her apprehensively.

"It's just ah…well," stuttered Sarah.

"A shit-heap," finished Guiterrez in a feigned cheery voice.

They had finally reached the edge of the jungle, and were overlooking a mass of dark grey, square buildings made of concrete. The buildings sat in a clearing around the size of a football field, which had obviously been well kept at one point. But now the jungle was regenerating, reclaiming land which had been lost to it. The concrete was laced thickly with vines and leaves, and the buildings had a weathered, worn look about them. The concrete was pitted in several places, and the communication spires that jutted out into the sky from the largest of the buildings were rusted and bedraggled. They had reached the geothermal power plant.

"Well, it's not that bad," said Tim, "it should still work fine."

"Well, where too?" said Anderson, turning to Tim.

Tim pointed to the large building, from which the communication spires protruded. "The power plant facility is in there," he said, "but that," he pointed to a smaller, hut-like building that looked like a World War 1 bunker, "is the control room. We're going to need to split up."

Guiterrez groaned. "Why did I know you were going to say that?" he asked.

Tim ignored him. "I'll go to the control room, and the rest of you will go to the power facility," he said slowly.

"You expecting there to be dinosaurs in here?" said Rodriguez.

"No," said Tim irritably, "I don't."

"Okay, fine," said Guiterrez, "but just how are we supposed to communicate while we're separated?"

Tim sighed, and scratched his head.

"There should be some portable walkie-talkies in the control room," said Wu, "InGen had them stashed all over the island when I worked here. We can all go inside; check the place out, then we can go over to the power facility."

"Ready?" said Tim, grasping the heavy handles of the door of the bunker-like building.

Anderson and Sarah nodded, training their guns on the door, ready for anything that might be inside.

"Okay. On the count of three," breathed Tim.

"One."

Anderson's finger moved into position in front of the trigger of his rifle, and hovered there, ready.

"Two."

Sarah's eyes narrowed and she removed the safety of the handgun silently, and took a steadying breath.

"_Three!_"

Tim gave the door handle an almighty wrench. The hinges squealed so loudly that it hurt his ears, and the steel door groaned. Slowly the entire door started to tilt forwards. The hinges separated from the doorframe, and fell to the ground with a clatter. Tim jumped clear as the entire door fell forward, and slammed the ground with a massage bang, making the air shudder and reverberate, leaving a gapping black hole in the wall.

"…Hmm," said Tim in the sudden silence.

"The door just fell off…" said Guiterrez quietly.

"Yes well, at least we can go inside now," whispered Tim with an uncomfortable shrug.

They all stared into the darkness that lay beyond the doorframe. The sound of dripping water echoed throughout the facility, and the air that drifted through the door smelled damp and stale. There was no growling, or the scratching of claws on concrete. Just the steady drips of water, as if somebody had left the tap on in the bathroom sink.

"So? How does it look?" asked Rodriguez.

Anderson raised his rifle, and twisted the light underneath the barrel. It gave a small _click_ as it snapped into position and the space beyond the door was filled with a harsh bluish light.

They were facing a long corridor, around ten feet wide and made of the same concrete as the surrounding buildings. The walls were covered thickly with wines, and were smeared with grime. The floor was covered with detritus, the accumulated filth of over a decade. In the middle of the corridor, only a few feet from them, there was a small crack in the ceiling. Water was trickling down through the crack, and was slowly dripping into a puddle that had built up on the floor.

"It's okay," said Anderson, "let's move."

He stepped into the building, hastily followed by the others. They walked along the gloomy corridor in silence, their breaths amplified by the enclosed space.

"So, where's the control room?" asked Anderson, not taking his eyes off the corridor ahead.

"Right here," said Tim, stopping in his tracks. The others stopped, and turned to where he was standing. There was a small recess built into the wall on the right hand side, going back a few feet. Inside it there was a heavy metal door that looked extremely thick, with a locking mechanism the size of a man's fist. There was a square glass pane built into the door at shoulder height, which was faded and scratched.

"…Okay," murmured Guiterrez, "How are we supposed to get in?"

Tim moved forward and grasped the handle. "The locking mechanism is only operational when the power is active," he said, and turned the handle. The door groaned, and Tim gave it a tug. The door moved slowly outwards, and came to rest against the wall with a faint _thud_.

The room beyond was a fifty square foot room which was filled with electronic equipment. Rows of servers lined the wall to the left, dented and rusted. There was a bank of computer terminals facing the right wall, which was covered in dials, knobs, and rows of lighting bulbs. Anderson ran his light over everything in turn, surveying it closely.

Tim rubbed his hands together excitedly.

"Excellent, this should all still work," he said, walking over to the nearest computer terminal.

"That won't work with the power out, will it?" asked Sarah, running her hands over the servers idly.

"No. You guys will have to go over the generator and start it up first, and then I can pull it online from here."

"Okay, then we need a way to communicate," said Anderson, "where are those radios you were talking about?"

Tim said nothing, inspecting the wiring that led from the computer, but pointed towards the back of the room, where there was a large grey locker.

Anderson walked over to it, and shone his light over the surface. There was a padlock securely fastened onto it, connecting the grating on each side of the seam of the door. Anderson turned back to Tim.

"Where's the key for the lock?"

"How should I know?" said Tim, brushing away the question with an irritable wave of his hand, bending over the computer, and checking the monitor.

Anderson turned to Wu, who put his hands up, and shook his head, shrugging.

Anderson sighed, and pulled the gun strap off his shoulders. Flipping the gun over, he pulled it over his head, ready to strike, butt facing downwards. He brought it down with a crash, and the padlock shattered, falling to the floor. He opened the door with a flourish, and stared inside. There was a bank of bulky portable radios and headsets lined along on the shelves of the locker, covered in dust and laced with cobwebs.

Suddenly, with a terrified shriek, a rat crawled from the bottom of the locker and raced along the floor towards the corridor.

"_Jesus!_" growled Guiterrez in distain as the rat ran between his legs.

With a shake of his head, Anderson turned back to the locker and pulled one of the radios out of the rack. He twisted the dial, but nothing happened. He tried several other radios, but all of them were dead.

"No big surprise there," said Wu with a shrug.

"There must be some extra batteries around here somewhere," murmured Anderson.

"Down the corridor, turn left, and then left again. There's a utility room, there should be some in there," said Tim absently from under the desk where the computer terminals lay, surrounded by bundles of cables.

"Okay," said Anderson, "Wu, Guiterrez and Rodriguez, with me. Malcolm and Sarah, stay here with Tim."

Ian gave a wave of his hand in acknowledgment, sitting down slowly in an ancient looking office chair, and resting his leg up onto another, a drawn and pained expression showing on his face.

Guiterrez, Wu, Anderson and Rodriguez left the room, their echoing footsteps slowly fading as they set off down the corridor. Sarah crouched down beside Malcolm, taking out a bottle of water and handing it to him. He drank thirstily, breathing slightly faster than usual.

"How's the leg?" she asked.

"Oh, it's fine. I'm just glad it's still there," answered Malcolm dismissively, although he winced slightly, and shifted in the chair.

"Ian," she said, "be serious. This wound could easily become infected, especially in this climate."

"Look, I'm fine," he muttered firmly, sitting further back in the chair. "I just need to close my eyes for a while."

Sarah left his side, and walked over to Tim.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously, peering at him as he worked on the cables underneath the computer terminals.

"I'm checking the power conduits, and the network connection lines. After all this time, they could have deteriorated."

"Erm… what does that mean?" she asked, scratching her head a little.

"I'm making sure everything's still plugged in," he said, flashing a small smile.

"Oh…Well, how is it?"

Tim pushed himself out from underneath the desk, and dusted off his hands. "It all looks fine. Couple of rodents have chewed the rubber insulation in places, but the wiring is intact."

"So we just have to go over and turn the power on?"

Tim gave a small laugh. "It's not like switching on a kitchen light—"

Guiterrez and Rodriguez rounded the corner and entered the room, carrying a large cardboard box each and looking quite pleased with themselves. Wu and Anderson entered after them, checking the corridor before he left the doorway.

"What's all this?" asked Tim, frowning, "We send you to get a couple of batteries and you come back with two whole boxes?"

"We found the batteries, but there was also all of this stuff," said Rodriguez happily, opening the lid folds of his box. Inside, there was a jumbled assortment of devices, and a good smattering of packing foam. On the left was what looked like a miniature black leather briefcase, only about a foot wide. On the right there was a rack of long cylinders bearing the InGen logo, with delicate pins protruding from the top.

"What's all this?" asked Sarah in puzzlement. Tim however, was smiling.

"The cylinders on the right are gas grenades. Pull the pin, toss it and _bang_. Paralyses anything within a twenty foot radius, depending on wind speeds."

"And this?" Sarah asked, picking up the mini-briefcase. She opened the lid, and peered inside. Inside was a pistol like device, and four long darts, and a phial of green liquid, all encased in molded packing foam.

"Tranquilizer gun," said Tim, "it won't be much use on anything larger than a few tones, but it'll give us an option other than lethal force on any of the smaller animals."

"Mmm, yes, I've always wanted a pet dinosaur," said Guiterrez, opening the lid on his box.

His box contained two long coils of nylon rope, six torches, and several large boxes of batteries.

"Could come in handy," said Anderson, shrugging, and starting to pack the rope into his rucksack.

Wu took a box of batteries, and set to work by installing them into the torches, and checking that they all worked properly. Anderson took another box, and took them over to the locker where the radios were kept.

He took one out, and removed the back. He blew inside to displace the accumulated dust, and inserted a battery. He took a deep breath, and twisted the dial. The power indicator light glowed a brilliant green, and Anderson smiled.

"Hey," he said to the other, holding it out for them to see, "it works."

"Good," said Tim, standing up. "We'll need a radio and headset each, so that's six."

While Anderson snapped the batteries in place on several other radios, Tim walked over to Malcolm, who was nodding off in his chair.

"Ian," he said, making Malcolm's eyes jump open, "are you okay?"

Malcolm sat up straighter in his chair, "I'm fine. Just a little tired."

Tim stared at him for a moment, frowning.

"Okay guys," said Anderson, coming forward and handing everybody a radio and headset, "let's go."

"I'll stay here, get the system up and running once you activate the generator," said Tim, sitting down in the chair that sat before the main computer terminal.

"Alright, you can guide us via radio?" asked Anderson.

"Sure, easy. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes if we hurry."

Everybody zipped up their rucksacks, and the room was full of shuffling as they shifted them onto their shoulders. Anderson checked the sights on his rifle, and moved towards the door. Malcolm made to get out of his chair, wincing slightly.

"Ian, you should stay here too," said Tim, not looking up from the computer terminal.

"What for?" Malcolm said.

"I could use the company. This place gives me the creeps."

Malcolm hesitated for a moment, but winced again, and sank back into his chair.

"Alright guys," said Anderson, "let's move out."

The tropical sunlight stung their skin like needles after the damp and relative cool of the control bunker, their skin contracting under the harsh rays. Anderson moved ahead of the rest of the group, training his rifle in a wide arc, checking for any signs of movement.

They were walking across a wide open field that spanned the distance between the control and generator buildings. They all had a radio in their back pockets, a cable protruding from it that connected to the headsets on their heads. Wu, Rodriguez, Sarah and Guiterrez were carrying four of the torches.

The grass in the field had grown to around knee height, and they had to take larger steps than usual to get around.

"Damn, the grass is long," said Rodriguez, tripping over a concealed vine.

"Yes, but not long enough," said Sarah quietly.

"What the hell do you mean?" hissed Wu, staggering slightly.

"I mean, after all this time, the grass should be at least five feet high."

"Meaning?"

"It means that something around here is playing gardener."

"…Comforting."

"So," said Guiterrez from behind them in the clear air of a person desperate to change a subject, "Tim, what are the chances that this geothermal plant still works?"

There was a crackle of static, and Tim's voice jumped into focus in everybody's ears.

"Pretty good actually. The plant was created to last a very long time. The plant had a staff of only five men, so it was very low maintenance."

"What if it isn't working?"

Tim laughed softly over the radio. "Then we've come a long way for nothing."

"Mr. Murphy," said Anderson, pressing the headset into his ear, "what are the chances of using those radio transmission spires to send a message to the outside world?"

There was a crackle of static, and a hiss. "I've been thinking about that, but—"

"But what?" said Sarah.

"If we send a message, then the whole world's going to know about this island."

"Screw that," grated Guiterrez, "people have died."

"He's right," said Wu, "if we can send a message, we should."

There was a pause, and another hiss. "I know," said Tim eventually.

"Okay, how would we do that?"

"Once the power is online, we can send a message via the control room. The radio system is wired through the computer terminals."

"Alright then," said Anderson.

They had reached the generator building, which towered several stories above them. Up close, it was obvious that it had once been painted white, and had been quite a sight. But now the walls were chipped and crumbling, tiny fragments of white paint hanging in tatters. There were no windows, just solid wall.

"Where's the door?"

"Underground," came Tim's voice.

"…Huh?" asked Rodriguez, panting slightly and looking at the ground.

"There should be a stairwell that leads underground at the west corner."

Anderson led them around the side of the building, scanning the floor. The grass made it difficult to see anything, and he was worried that one of them may fall into the stairwell before any of them saw it. And before he could warn any of them, he heard a yell from behind him.

There was a scrabble and the sound of dirt being kicked up. "Oh fuck!" shouted Guiterrez as Anderson whipped around, and a moment later he was gone. There was a crash as he disappeared, and a groan. Anderson and the others rushed over to where he had disappeared from, and found a gaping black hole in the ground.

"Martin?" he called.

There was no reply.

Anderson reached underneath the barrel of his rifle, and click on his light, illuminating the hole. It revealed a narrow passage around three feet wide, leading down twenty feet or more. Everything was obscured by a thick brown dust, which was floating around lazily. Guiterrez lay sprawled fifteen feet down, coughing.

"You ok?" Sarah called.

"Spectacular," Guiterrez wheezed, trying to shift his legs from their position over his head. Anderson walked down into the stairwell, his footsteps echoing in the small space. He grabbed Guiterrez by the hand, and hoisted him onto his feet.

Martin was breathing deeply, and ran his hands over himself.

"You ok?" asked Wu.

"…Yeah, I'm all here," whispered Guiterrez.

Anderson clapped him on the shoulder, and moved past him, further into the stairwell. "Is the door locked?" he asked, pressing the headset into his ear.

"Shouldn't be," said Tim absently.

"Alright," said Anderson, beckoning for the others to follow him into the staircase. Guiterrez followed him, limping slightly. They reached the bottom of the staircase in a few seconds, and Anderson ran his light over a steel door that resembled the one that led to the control room. Anderson reached out and grasped the handle, and turned it. There was a resounding _thunk_ and a hiss of escaping gas, and the door opened inwards.

"A vacuum?" he asked.

"Must be airtight," said Sarah.

Anderson looked around at the others, who nodded. Raising his rifle, he took a deep breath and walked into the inky blackness beyond.

Tim tapped his fingers on the table top idly, staring at the blank computer screen in front of him, listening to the radio static. The gloomy room was illuminated by three of the torches that they had found, casting a trio of beams of light on the walls. The sound of dripping water echoed throughout the facility, emanating from the corridor, through the open door. Every movement he made seemed to be amplified, so he tried his best to stay still.

Malcolm was slumped in his chair, his leg up on the second, apparently asleep. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. He looked a little paler than usual. Tim knew why, but he wasn't ready to share that with anybody. Much more was at stake than this.

There was a howl of wind that swept through the facility from the open wall outside, and blew into the control room with a high pitched whistle. Tim's hair blew up, and he shivered. There was a scratch on the floor outside the door, and Tim shook himself.

Great, he thought. Now he was hearing things. He tapped on the tabletop faster, trying to block everything out.

The scratch came again.

"Damn it," he muttered, and stood up. He stalked across the room, picking up a metal pole as he did so, brandishing it like a club. Slowly, he edged towards the doorframe, and poked his head into the corridor.

He looked left, then right.

Nothing.

Uncomforted, he backed back into the control room, and grabbed the door. Slowly, he swung it shut. It clanged loudly in the silence. Tim breathed deeply, trying to slow his heartbeat.

"Nervous?" said a deep voice.

Tim jumped and span around, to see Malcolm. He was grinning, his eyes still closed.

"Very funny," said Tim, sitting back in his chair at the computer terminal.

"Hey, you're the one getting all jumpy," whispered Malcolm, shifting in his chair. "And do you really think closing that door is going to help if there _is_ something out there?"

"Better than nothing, isn't it?"

"Not so sure about that. You remember what happened last time we were here, right?"

There was a silence, in which Tim was sure he could hear the echo of a high-pitched scream.

"I remember," he said finally.

Malcolm opened his eyes, and stared at Tim. "But our clever friends aren't anywhere near us, right Timothy?" he said quietly.

Tim stared back at him, and his heart skipped a beat. Malcolm had always been the smart one, had seen things coming, had known what other didn't. Did he know about this? "Right," is all he could say, nodding.

Tim was sure he could see something stir behind Malcolm's eyes, a twinkle. Ian smiled, and closed his eyes again, resting his head against the chair.

"So, Tim," he continued, "why did you really stop me from going with the others?"

Tim couldn't look at him, and just stared at the monitor in front of him. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Tim, don't play dumb-shit," whispered Malcolm with a jeering voice, "what did that animal do to me? That…Dilophosaur."

"Nothing," said Tim quickly, and scolded himself. He could tell that he was far from convincing.

"I see," said Malcolm, sneering. "Well, we'll see soon enough, won't we?"

Tim jumped once again as the radio crackled loudly in the quiet room.

"Tim?" asked Anderson's voice. "Tim? Are you there?"

Tim looked at Malcolm for a second, and sighed. He knew that they weren't through with this.

He pressed his headset closer to his ear, and said "What is it?"

"We're here."

"What?"

"We're here, at the generator."

Anderson shone his light over the massive assortment of tubes and wiring that lined the walls. They stood inside a room that was at least fifty feet square. The ceiling was higher than Anderson's light permitted them to see, stretching away into blackness. A narrow catwalk ran along the floor in front of them, the only area of the room free of tubing.

"You're at the generator?" said Tim over the radio.

"That's right," said Guiterrez, "if by generator you mean crap-load of tubes."

"Ah, good," said Tim, "the power unit is down one level."

"How do we get down there?" asked Sarah.

"Do you see a catwalk?"

"Yes."

"Follow that for a hundred yards, it'll take you into another room, and you'll find a ladder leading down."

"Right, thanks."

They set off down the catwalk, their footsteps echoing on the metal. Everything was damp; droplets of water covered the railing. Their feet threatened to slip on the wet surface, so they were forced to move slowly.

Anderson kept his weapon trained on the darkness in front of them. Guiterrez, Rodriguez, Sarah and Wu turned on their torches with a quadruple resounding _click_, and the huge room was lit up with their brilliant blue beams.

"That's better," whispered Guiterrez.

They passed into a tunnel like structure, and left the first room behind. The roof was only ten feet high here, and was cracked in many places. Moss grew around the cracks, dripping with water. Twenty meters later the ceiling stretched away again as they entered a second room. This one had a single turbine in the middle, which sparkled with a bright yellowish colour.

"What's this stuff on the turbine?" asked Guiterrez.

"The technology is tough on electronics and mechanical parts, so it had to be hardened. The turbine is covered with a special alloy."

"Which alloy?"

"Gold."

"Gold?" asked Guiterrez, shining his light over the turbine. It glinted brightly under the torch beam, sparkling dully. "Cool," he said.

"Bingo," muttered Anderson, shining his light on the floor. On the right of the catwalk there was a hole in the grate, a silver ladder protruding half a foot upwards.

"I'll go down first, check it out, and then you follow," said Anderson, shouldering his rifle and getting on his knees, climbing into the hole. "Sarah," he said, holding onto the ladder, "if anything happens to me, take the others and get back to the control room. Nobody try to be a hero."

Sarah nodded.

Anderson began to climb down slowly, looking over his shoulder as he did so. "I could use some light here," he called upwards.

Two shafts of bluish light shone down into the cavity, allowing him to see the floor some twelve feet below him. It looked dry compared to the rest of the building, and was free of cracks. There was no movement. He put his hands and feet on the sides of the ladder and slid the rest of the way down the ladder, and jumped onto the floor. He un-shouldered his rifle, and clicked on the light. He was standing in a room far smaller than the one above, no more than half the size of the control room where they had left Tim and Malcolm. It had a wall of buttons and dials similar to those in the control room too, but there were no dinosaurs.

"Its okay, come on down," he called up the ladder.

He pressed the headset closer to his ear. "Tim, we're down. What do we do now?"

There was a hiss of static, and a crackle. Sarah jumped down beside him, looking around.

"Okay," said Tim over the radio, "there should be a small panel of green buttons on your right."

"Yeah, I see them," said Anderson.

"Okay, do exactly what I say. Push the button which says 'Thermals'."

"Okay…" said Anderson, running his hands over the buttons. It was the one on the far right. He pushed it firmly with his thumb. It was stiff, but he pushed harder and it snapped inwards.

There was a juddering from above them, and the sound of metal clanging on metal. A bundle of pipes that ran down alongside the ladder began to shake.

"What's all this?" asked Guiterrez, jumping down beside them.

"The plant has begun to vent the heat energy from the power source," said Tim.

"Okay, now what?"

"There should be another button which says 'Main Capacitor'."

"Got it," said Anderson.

"Push it."

Anderson pushed the button, which squealed metallically. There was a low whine, and a crackle. To their left there was a sharp buzz, and sparks exploded from the wall.

"What's that noise?" called Wu from above.

"Tim, there's sparks everywhere," shouted Anderson into the headset.

"That's good," said Tim.

"Not in my opinion," muttered Guiterrez, hissing as sparks landed on his skin.

"What's next?" asked Anderson.

"On your left there's a panel with switches on it."

"Turbine, power, safety 1, safety 2…" said Sarah, reading off a few of the labels.

"That's them," said Tim, "switch them all on."

There was a series of clicks as Sarah flicked them all upwards.

"And now?"

"At the back of the room there's a large red button which is covered in a protective plastic tablet."

Anderson shone his light into the recesses of the room, and illuminated a blank wall which had a single plastic tablet at shoulder height.

Anderson walked over to it as Wu and Rodriguez dropped down into the room, and lifted the plastic covering, revealing a withered red button the size of his fist.

"Push it," said Tim.

Anderson punched the button, and stepped back. For a moment nothing happened, and then the entire room shook. A low electrical whine began to build steadily, and the dials on the left wall flickered on for a moment. More sparks exploded from the wiring, showering them all liberally. Then there was a loud chugging that reminded Anderson of a steam engine, and the dials flickered again.

The low whine reached a crescendo, and the sparks stopped. Then with a clang a buzzing filled the room, and the dials shone brightly.

Anderson smiled. "I think we did it," he said.

Tim looked around and smiled as the dials on the wall in front of him flickered to life. The disk in the computer whirred. "Showtime," he muttered. In the corner of the monitor in front of him, two green words faded into view; 'System Ready'.

The door gave a loud _thunk_ as the locking mechanism snapped into place.

"Oh goody," whispered Malcolm from his chair, "some good news."

"Okay guys, come on back," said Tim into his headset. "We've got power."


	21. Chapter 19: Microceratops

Chapter 19

**Microceratops**

Tim stared at the computer screen in front of him, and smiled. The system was online, all he had to do was log in and then he could access the system. From then on, he could reroute all power to the main visitor area. Hopefully there wouldn't be any shorts along the way, but he didn't expect that there would be. The power lines were underground after all.

He positioned his fingers over the keyboard, and hit the return button. The computer beeped, and the screen changed. The disks whirred, and then clicked. Now he faced a screen that resembled a standard company login interface.

_**InGen Geothermal Power Facility**_

_Login: _

Tim recognized the screen; he had seen it in the representations in the archives back at InGen headquarters. Promptly he typed in 'Hammond'. He hit the return key again. One again the disks in the computer whirred. This time it took several seconds before they clicked, and the screen changed again.

_**InGen Geothermal Power Facility**_

_Password:_

Tim patiently typed in 'Alexis', and paused. When he had looked this up on the InGen interface, it made sense that Lex would be his password. He had loved his granddaughter. But now Tim felt a stab in his chest at the sight of his sister's name. He wished that he could have taken her along; he could have used her skills. She was talented in the art of computer science, and even though Tim thought that he would be sufficiently skilled for this mission, his sister would have been a big help. Especially now.

But it was too dangerous, he reminded himself. He was here now, and he needed to just get on with it. He hit the return key again.

Guiterrez ascended the ladder slowly, wincing slightly. His ass hurt like hell, his fall down the stairwell outside wasn't any fun at all. Anderson was in front of him, his rifle bouncing on his back as he climbed. Sarah, Wu and Rodriguez climbed below him, waiting patiently as he hopped up the ladder one step at a time.

He watched as Anderson jumped lightly onto the landing above, and swung his rifle from his shoulder. He beckoned for Guiterrez to follow him, holding out his hand. Guiterrez grabbed it, and pulled himself up, grunting. As the others jumped up after him, he looked up at the turbine as it spun rhythmically. The glint of the gold alloy sparkled in the mixed light of Anderson's rifle and their torches. Underneath them they could hear the pumping of a piston, chugging away like a steam engine.

Anderson set off along the catwalk, passing into the tunnel. Guiterrez followed him, limping slightly. They passed into the tunnel leading into the next room, where the moss dripped water onto his forehead. Within seconds they were back out into the first room, full of piping. Now that they had activated the plant the pipes were all juddering against the wall, with small snakes of steam following out through the rust ridden seams. The noise was considerable, the clanging of metal reverberated in the air, and echoed in Guiterrez's ears.

It was a relief to step through the open door a minute later, out into the stairwell. Anderson waited as each of them passed him, and then closed the door firmly. There was a _hiss-snap_, and the vacuum resealed.

Sarah led them out of the stairwell, with Anderson bringing up the rear. Sarah had the handgun stowed in the waistband of her trousers, her hand resting on the butt, ready.

"How's it going, Tim?"

"Ah, I'm just accessing the system now," came Tim's voice, the sound of his rapid typing coming across the radio.

They set out across the wide open field again, heading back towards the bunker-like control room. They had to step carefully once more in the tall grass, forcing Guiterrez to hop around, supported by Wu.

"The vacuum seal on the door has activated over here, so the power's working," said Guiterrez, flexing his leg.

"Yes, the power in the immediate area around the power plant comes online on startup. The door locks have come on here, too."

"Yes, that's very nice," interrupted Sarah from in front, "but shouldn't we be discussing what to do next?"

"Just get back here first," said Tim, "it'll be easier to work things out—"

A chirping floated across the field towards them from the tree line to the south. It was soft, almost like a sigh. It started off low, and became higher pitched as it continued. It reminded Guiterrez of a pony. But he knew that it wasn't; it was another one of those damned animals.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Shh," hissed Sarah, cocking her head.

Anderson signaled for them all the get down. They all crouched in the knee high grass, which provided them with some protection. Guiterrez grunted as he folded his leg underneath him.

An answering call came from the west, floating out of the depths of the trees. This one was even higher pitched than the previous one. The first call came again, accompanied by another.

So, there were at least three of them.

"Tim," whispered Anderson, "we've got three dinosaurs at the southern and western tree line."

"What kind?"

"I don't know. We haven't got a visual. He can hear them."

"Are they close?"

"Very."

"What do they sound like?"

"Like a duck having a seizure," muttered Guiterrez.

Tim scowled over the radio, "Not helpful, Martin."

"One second," said Anderson, "I'll hold up my headset, listen for it again."

Anderson took the earpiece out of his ear, and held it up in the air. The call came again a few seconds later, and this time the leaves of a tree to the south thrashed for a second.

"Tim, you better have got that," murmured Guiterrez, eying the tree which had just begun moving.

"I can't be sure," said Tim, "I'm not getting very good reception. Just get back here as soon as possible. You should be alright."

Anderson nodded, and stood up. Cautiously, he began to walk off again. The others followed, Guiterrez wincing as he stumbled to his feet. They travelled at a trot, glancing frequently at the tree line. They only had another hundred meters to go, and then they'd be inside the control bunker.

A shrieking roar suddenly blasted out over the clearing, very different from the previous vocalizations. They all froze in their tracks, and turned to face the source of the sound. It had come from the south. Everything had become deathly silent, the birds had stopped singing, and the frogs had stopped croaking. Everything was still.

"Tim?" whispered Anderson.

"I heard it, I didn't need a radio for that," said Tim's voice. "Get back here, now."

"Okay guys," said Anderson tensely, "let's move."

As they turned to set off, the trees at the southern tree line shook violently, and the roar blasted out again, louder and closer than before.

"God," breathed Rodriguez.

With another roar, a black shape over eight feet tall tore away from the trees, casting aside the foliage without apparent effort, and ran towards them at full pelt. The Metriacanthosaurus sped straight for them, jaws wide and claws splayed.

"Oh shit, not again!" shouted Guiterrez.

"Go! Now!" shouted Anderson, raising his rifle to shoulder height. Sarah ran back to stand beside him, withdrawing the pistol from her trousers and aiming it at the Metriacanthosaurus.

Guiterrez turned and ran, ignoring the screaming protests of his leg. He yelped in pain every time he stood on it, but he kept pumping as fast as he could. Wu and Rodriguez ran alongside him, casting terrified glancing back behind them. The control bunker was only another seventy meters, and then they were safe.

"GO, GO!" shouted Anderson from somewhere behind him. Blasts of pistol fire rang out, accompanied by short bursts of automatic rifle fire. He could hear the low whines of the bullets as they snaked into the grass and ricocheted off tree trunks in the distance. The dinosaur screamed at them, and Guiterrez could tell that the volley of firepower was having little or no effect.

"Go! Move, move, move!" shouted Anderson from behind him. He had started running after them, and a second later he grabbed Guiterrez by the arm, dragging him forward. Sarah appeared on his other side, and together they picked Guiterrez off the ground, and ran with him like he was a rag doll.

"Hey!" barked Guiterrez, struggling. He could make it; they didn't have to carry him like this. "Get off me!" he shouted.

Sarah glanced behind her, and aimed the pistol over her shoulder, firing several rounds at random. Anderson did the same, delivering several rapid bursts, which received a scream of rage from the rampaging dinosaur. The ground began to shake violently as the Metriacanthosaurus gained on them. Now they were only twenty meters away from the entrance to the bunker.

"Tim!" shouted Guiterrez into the headset, "Open the fucking door!"

The dinosaur screeched again, and Rodriguez gave a yell of fright ahead of him, waving his arms in the air frantically. By now Wu had reached the entrance of the control bunker. He didn't stop, but ran straight through the open whole where the outer door had once stood. The Metriacanthosaurus roared in rage at the sight of him disappearing, and Rodriguez put on a spurt, running into the bunker with another yell. Anderson swung his rifle over his shoulder and shot off another few rounds. There was a resounding _smack_, and the dinosaur screamed as a bullet slammed into its body.

Anderson and Sarah, both panting heavily, ran as fast as they could straight through the gaping hole in the wall, dragging Guiterrez with them.

After the startling sunlight outside, it was overwhelmingly dark inside the building, and their eyes struggled frantically to adjust to the light levels. They stumbled along the dim hallway, their heavy breathing amplified in the enclosed space. Behind them they could hear the roars of the dinosaur, and then an explosive impact shook the building. The Metriacanthosaurus growled as it slammed into the building, and knocked concrete flying as it tried to fit through the narrow doorway.

They found Tim waving them on from the control room door, and dragged Guiterrez inside, taking him out of their hands. Guiterrez shook himself free of Tim's grasp with a snarl, and limped into the room. Behind him he could hear Anderson and Sarah shooting at the dinosaur from out in the hallway.

"Get in here!" shouted Guiterrez.

Anderson, Tim and Sarah stumbled into the room, and all three of them grabbed the door, and slammed it shut. The metal vibrated as it impacted the wall, and the door locked shut with a _thunk_.

They all stood in the darkened room, panting and covered with sweat. Dust rained from the ceiling as the Metriacanthosaurus continued to slam into the building, roaring into the hallway. Guiterrez was groaning, the pain in his leg shooting up into his spine like needles. He sank to the floor, and looked up at the others, the readouts of the dials on the wall projected onto their anxious faces.

The dinosaur gave a final slam, and roared. They heard its footsteps turn away from the building, and head north. Slowly, the trembling of the ground lessened as the Metriacanthosaurus retreated.

"There are politer ways of waking a man up, you know," said Malcolm sleepily.

Guiterrez sighed deeply from his spot on the floor, and put his head between his knees, baring his teeth as another shot of pain run up his leg. "I hate that thing," he said weakly.

"Yeah, well, it's gone now," said Tim, sitting in his chair in front of the main computer terminal.

"How long to get the power rerouted?" asked Sarah, standing behind Tim.

"A few minutes," said Tim, beginning to hammer on the keyboard rapidly. A new screen popped up. This time is was standard blue, with the InGen logo in the top left corner. Two lines of white text scrolled slowly onto the screen in the center.

_**InGen Geothermal Power Facility**_

_Main Access_

Tim clapped his fingers together. "We're in," he said.

Everybody crowded around the computer screen, the blue glow of the screen filling the room and illuminating their faces. Guiterrez pulled himself up using the table top, and Malcolm limped over with Sarah's help, surveying the screen with a mild detached interest.

Holding onto the table for support, Guiterrez watched as Tim began typing again, and letters began to scroll along the screen near the bottom.

_ : __Gotopower-distrib_

Tim hit the return key, and the disks whirred rapidly, clicking several times before snapping into place.

"What are you doing?" asked Guiterrez, staring as the screen turned black and filled with lines of code that passed to rapidly for him to read.

"I'm accessing the power distribution network. From there I can reroute power to wherever I want."

Now the screen was full of static, and the disks whirred, stopped, then whirred again before clicking into place. There was a whine which lasted several seconds that came from the wall opposite them, and then the screen changed back to standard blue, this time beeping several times as lines of writing appeared one at a time. Guiterrez frowned as he read them.

_**InGen Geothermal Power Facility**_

_Power Distribution Network_

_**Name**_

_**Zone**_

_**Z-Code**_

_**Status**_

_Hlpad_

_01_

_ZC-1_

_Offline_

_Mntnnce_

_02_

_ZC-2_

_Offline_

_VstrCmplx_

_03_

_ZC-3_

_Offline_

_RptrPn_

_04_

_ZC-4_

_Offline_

_Prmtr_

_05_

_ZC-5_

_Offline_

_SfrLdg_

_06_

_ZC-6_

_Offline_

_GPlnt_

_07_

_ZC-7_

_**Online**_

_HydrPlnt_

_08_

_ZC-7_

_Offline_

_Would you like to reset network Y/N?_

Guiterrez shook his head in confusion; none of this made any sense to him at all. "What is all that?" he asked.

"These," Tim said, pointing to the list of words under the 'Name' column, "are power divisions of the island, where the electricity is divided up into sections. The zones are the individual designations, and the Zone Codes are the keystrokes required to manipulate each zone. As you can see, 'GPlnt', which stands for geothermal plant, is the only zone currently online. Right now it's asking if I want to reset the system, to bring everything online. Seeing as I don't want to do that, as there isn't nearly enough power to supply electricity to all of these zones with only one of the three power stations online…" he punched 'N', and the computer beeped. The bottom line of text disappeared from the screen, and another one scrolled to take its place.

_Would you like to initialize an individual zone Y/N?_

"That's more like it," murmured Tim, and punched the 'Y' button. The screen turned black once again, and the disks clicked loudly. Slowly, a detailed colored map of Isla Nublar scrolled into view, crisscrossed with many squiggling lines.

"What's that?" asked Sarah.

Tim pointed to the south-eastern corner of the island map. Most of the lines that crossed the map were silver, but two of them were red, and one was bright green. "These lines indicate the viability of each zone. Silver means that it's ready to go; you just need to direct the current in that direction. Red indicates that there's a major short or the conduits have been damaged. And green indicates an active zone. Right now, the only zone active is here, at the southern tip. Those two red ones," he pointed to the eastern portion of the island and a zone near the visitor area, "well, the eastern one would be the perimeter fence, which initially housed most of the animals when the park was active. And the other one is probably the raptor holding pen."

Another line of text rolled onto the screen underneath the map.

_Which zone would you like to initialize?_

Promptly, Tim punched in 'ZC-3'' and hit the return key. The wall opposite them emitted a strained groaning, and a building electronic whir emanated from beneath them. On the island map a central silver line that led from their position at the geothermal plant to the northern portion of the island began to turn to green, the colour snaking upwards along the line.

"What's that?" asked Guiterrez, standing on one leg to relieve the pain in his injured one.

"The power is being distributed along the main conduit line that runs underneath the main road," said Tim, rubbing his chin absently as he watched the screen. "It'll take a minute or so to charge the capacitors along the way, and then it'll run along to the Visitor Area."

"Mr. Murphy," said Anderson suddenly, "what about the radio spires on this station?"

Tim snapped his fingers. "Hey, I forgot all about that!" He flexed his fingers, and rattled on the keyboard again.

_ : mainaccess _

He hit the return key, and the main screen flicked back onto the monitor, the blue glow hurting their eyes after the brightly colored map. He then punched in a new directory.

_ : __Gotoradio-__net_

The disks whirred once again, and the screen went blank. They all waited for a few more seconds, but nothing happened. Guiterrez groaned; it wasn't going to work. He hasn't expected it to after all this time. The radio spires outside looked pretty old, and rusted. His head dropped when he saw the words 'Access Denied' appear on the screen.

Tim cursed, and hit the return key again.

Nothing happened.

Tim hit the return key one more time, but it was a move of frustration. This time more words began scrolling in the centre of the screen.

_Access Denied_

_Main System core required for successful radio network activation._

They were all silent for a moment, until Guiterrez cleared his throat. "What, ah…what does that mean?" he said.

"It means that we have to activate the computer system at the control room in the visitor centre for the radio network to function properly," said Tim dully, bringing the main access screen back up.

"And when is it that your company will miss us?" said Sarah, raising her eyebrows.

"Not for another twenty-four hours at least," sighed Tim, leaning back in his seat.

"We can get to the visitor centre and back by then if we have to," she said confidently.

Guiterrez didn't share her confidence. They'd only been on the island a few hours and already it seemed to be weeks. And Malcolm wasn't going very far any time soon, not with his bite wound.

"We need a route," murmured Anderson.

Everybody turned to face him, frowning.

"I mean to get to the visitor centre as soon as possible. Tim, you can get that map back up, right?"

"Sure," said Tim, and after a few moments of typing the colored map was back on the screen, this time it was free of the power lines.

Anderson surveyed that map for a few moments, nodding to himself. "Okay," he whispered, "if we can go from here through the jungle here, heading west," he drew a line with his finger across the screen, "and then across these fields," his finger passed by an area which was marked with a sign that indicated steaming mounds, "then we can reach the lagoon." He pointed to a large pool of water on the screen, several miles north of the field. "From there, we can follow the river to this point, "he indicated a place on the map where a blue line and a grey one almost met," we can get onto the main road, and follow it all the way to the visitor centre."

Guiterrez absorbed this information, and nodded his head slowly. "Sounds good to me," he said.

Tim looked around at them all.

"Okay," he said, "let's go."

He made to get up, but Rodriguez gave a small bark, and held out his hands. "Hey, hey, hey. How do we know that our friend outside is gone? Is it such a good idea to just go running out there?"

Anderson swung his rifle from his shoulder. "We haven't got much choice, have we?"

Tim collapsed back into his chair, and turned back to the computer. "Actually…" he murmured, and began typing again. In a few moments the computer emitted a rapid beeping, and the screen filled with around eight video images, split into their own sections. They all showed images surrounding the geothermal power plant complex, and all of them showed nothing but the wide field of grass and the trees at the edge of the jungle, waving in the wind.

"Well, looks good to me," said Tim.

"Alright," conceded Rodriguez. "Let's go then."

Tim hammered on the keyboard, and the screen went blank. The disks slowed down, and then clicked to a stop. "Alright," he murmured.

The mid-afternoon sun beat down on them heavily as they struck out across the field towards the west tree line. Anderson was in the lead, scanning the area ahead of them in wide arcs, his rifle ready at shoulder height. Sarah was in the middle, supporting Ian as he hopped along steadily. Guiterrez brought up the rear, looking over his shoulder far more than he cared to admit.

After two minutes they reached the tree line, and crossed into the jungle once again, cutting the sunlight down to a minimum. "Back again," muttered Guiterrez to the trees around him, "miss us?"

A thrashing sound interrupted his monologue, and they all froze. The trees and bushes seemed to be shaking all around them. A chirping sound that sounded exactly like the one that they had heard before the Metriacanthosaurus attacked floated down towards them. Guiterrez span around to face the source of the sound. Immediately an identical chirp floated down to him from behind him. He whirled around again. Now the chirping sound was coming from several sources, in all directions. Guiterrez was breathing hard now, and he could feel his heart beating against the inside of his chest. The trees were thrashing all around them, the chirping getting louder. He stared ahead of himself, looking for any sign of what was making the noise.

After a moment he realized that the others were all staring at him, some of them with their mouths open.

"What?" he asked.

"Martin," whispered Sarah, pointing at his head.

"…Do I have a zit?" he asked, crossing his eyes to look at his nose.

"No, Martin," she hissed urgently. Guiterrez realized that she wasn't pointing at his head, but in fact she was pointing to an area just to the right of his head. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. Slowly, he turned his head to the right.

He stared into another pair of eyes, which were yellow and had vertical black pupils. Instinctively, he pulled his head backwards, away from the pair of eyes. Now he realized that he was staring at the face of an animal the size of an average dog, upside down and hanging from the nearest tree. It had a hard, bony face, ending it a horny like beak. It's face was surrounded by a small stubby frill, which had small spikes protruding from it at several intervals.

It cocked its head to the side, and chirped at him playfully.

Guiterrez screamed at the top of his lungs into the face of the animal, wheeling back in horror. The animal, startled, screamed back at him in a high pitched honk, and spun upright, retreating back into the tree.

"What the…" breathed Guiterrez, staring at the animal that stared down at them from the tree. "What the hell is that thing?"

"Microceratops," said Tim, smiling up at the small animal.

The Micro looked at Guiterrez, and cocked its head, chirping. It hopped on the spot, and snorted.

"I think it likes you, Martin," said Malcolm, smirking.

The Micro cocked its head again. Martin stepped forward, and cocked his head in the same way. The Micro snorted again happily, and chirped.

The trees around them shook once again, and then more Microceratops began to emerge all around them. There had to have been twelve in all, all looking down at them.

"Are they dangerous?" asked Guiterrez. He doubted it, they didn't look very vicious. In fact, they reminded him of puppies.

"No, they're herbivores."

"We heard them earlier," said Anderson, "just before the other one attacked us."

"Yeah," breathed Guiterrez, looking at the Micro that had approached him.

Sarah sighed. "Guys, we don't have time for this." She turned away from the Micro's and walked into the jungle with Ian in tow.

"She's right," said Tim, "come on, Marty."

Anderson, Rodriguez, Wu, and Tim followed Sarah and Malcolm, disappearing into the foliage.

Guiterrez walked up to his Micro. "Go on," he said, making a shooing motion with his hands. "Go." The Microceratops chirped again, and hopped up and down.

Martin cursed. "Go on!" he shouted. The Micro backed away at his raised voice, and turned away. The other Micro's disappeared with a unanimous chirp. The trees thrashed as they retreated. Marty's Micro turned to look at him one more time, and then hopped out of view.

Smiling despite himself, and shaking his head, he turned and followed the others into the jungle.


	22. Chapter 20: Southern Fields

Chapter 20

**Southern Fields**

The ground was hot underfoot. Wu trudged along behind Sarah, who was supporting Malcolm. They had just passed beyond the jungle once more, into a field that stretched away into the distance for several miles. The grass was around ankle height, and it waved gently in the mid-afternoon breeze. The air seemed to ripple close to the ground in several places, as if heat was being emanated from the ground itself. They were all breathing heavily after the trek through the densely packed jungle, and their clothes were darkened with sweat.

Wu looked out over the plain, and squinted in the glare. There was the odd tree scattered around, but other than that there was very little foliage.

"Where are we?" asked Guiterrez from the back of the group.

"The Southern Fields," said Wu, looking at the heat waves as they rose steadily from ground level.

"Well, is it me, or is it hotter than ever?" said Malcolm, hopping slightly on his good leg.

"Yeah," said Tim, sitting on a boulder that was sticking out of the ground to catch his breath, "as the island's origin is volcanic, there are still some places that heat up. This activity is most apparent at the southern tip of the island, which is why we situated the geothermal plant around here."

Wu already knew all of this; he had worked here long before Tim had even visited the island. But he just let him talk, focusing on the field ahead of them. Like the field around the geothermal plant, the grass was being eaten by something.

"Okay, we've reached the fields," said Guiterrez, "where do we go next?"

"The lagoon," said Anderson, "which is…?" he looked to Tim for assistance.

Tim pointed diagonally across the field, in a direction where the jungle in the distance seemed sparser. "That way, if we walk across the field, we can be there in three quarters of an hour-"

"You know," interrupted Guiterrez, scratching the back of his head, "the last two times that we've been confronted with a wide open field on this island, we've walked ever so boldly right through it. And you know what happened? We got chased by that bloody… Metria-thing! Twice!"

Wu couldn't help but nod his head. He was right; it was foolish to do so again.

"You think it's wise to do so again?" finished Guiterrez.

"There's nothing out there to attract predators," said Sarah, shrugging.

"Yes, the same was true for the last time," said Wu, "and we still got chased. It'd be better to skirt the edge, go around. It'll take longer, but we'll be safer. If the Metriacanthosaurus or anything else comes near, we can still climb a tree and escape."

Tim nodded from his position on the rock, still breathing deeply. "Alright, fair enough; we'll go around."

Which is how they found themselves ten minutes later, dodging among the ferns that lined the tree line. Wu placed his feet carefully, trying to avoid the gnarled roots that littered the ground, and concentrated on ducking and weaving through the thick palm leaves. It was stiflingly hot in the confines of the jungle, and as he felt sweat drip down the back of his neck Wu was starting to think that the risk of attack was worth the relative cool of the open plain.

"You know we're going to need a break sooner or later," panted Guiterrez from behind him.

"We will," called Anderson from up ahead, "but I'd prefer to find somewhere safer first."

Guiterrez chuckled quietly. "Safe," he muttered quietly, so that only Wu and Rodriguez could hear, "trust me, I've seen enough to know that on this island there is no such thing as safe."

Wu couldn't agree more. He had hoped never to see this island again after he heard of the incident on the island over a decade before. He had never truly trusted Hammond or the company itself; it was far too secretive, far too incompetent. They had tampered with technology which they never fully understood, technology which most of them could never understand. They hadn't developed it themselves; and they hadn't taken the proper precautions. And most of all, they hadn't done any of it for all of human kind. They had done it in haste, in secret, and for profit.

A movement from in front of him broke Wu's train of thought. Anderson had raised his hand, palm extended. Wu gathered that he wanted them to stop. Slowly, Anderson went into a crouch. Without question, they all copied him in unison. Wu frowned; he couldn't see any reason for the alarm. Anderson was now sliding his rifle down from its position on his shoulder, clicking the safety button off.

And then Wu heard a snuffling sound in the jungle ahead of them. It was barely audible at all, just a quiet sniff. Almost like a horse. A vice like grip of panic grasped Wu's chest, and he struggled against the sudden urge to break cover and run. But Anderson remained completely calm, raising the rifle to eye level, training onto the trees where the sound had came from. The sound came again, this time a little louder and higher pitched.

"John?" hissed Tim.

Anderson waved his hand frantically, signaling for him to be quiet. He then pointed upwards, towards the tree tops. Without a second's hesitation, they all stood up as one and leaped for the nearest branch. Wu grabbed a low overhanging vine, and swung his legs up as fast as he could. His heart pounded against the inside of his chest as he heard a low growl, and he scrambled upwards. He reached a small recess where the branches diverged from the nearest tree trunk, and leaped into it. He was twelve feet up, and fairly confident that he was safe. Looking around, he saw the others to the left of him, taking refuge in the tree next to his. Malcolm had his eyes closed, and appeared to be grey, wheezing as Sarah shot worried look at him. Anderson was still on the ground, now taking slow steps back, towards Wu's tree.

Wu's blood was rushing in his veins, and his breathing was shallow and erratic. Anderson grabbed the trunk of his tree, and with a last look at the underbrush where the sounds continued to emanate, he climbed the tree so fast that he almost appeared to be running upwards.

He hoisted himself up and sat beside Wu, breathing deeply, and training his rifle on the ground below.

"What the hell is that?" asked Guiterrez.

At his voice, there was a high pitched bark, and the ferns below them shook. An animal the size of a hippopotamus stepped into view, its heavy footsteps crushing the tree roots with ease. It was dark green in colouration, and had a massive bulk which distended several feet. It had a double row of green-reddish pentagonal plates running along the length of its back, tapering as they approached the end of the tail, which had four lethal looking, meter long spikes protruding from its side. Its head was tiny in comparison with its body size, ending in a beak like snout.

Wu watched in fascination as the animal loped into the small clearing below them, its ribcage slowly rising and falling. It appeared to pay them no attention at all, and Wu wondered whether it was capable of sensing them at all from their height. He laughed quietly to himself, smiling as the tension left him.

"That's a…that's an erm…" stuttered Guiterrez.

"Stegosaurus," said Wu, nodding.

Once again, at the sound of their voices, the Stegosaurus barked, and shuffled around on its forelimbs, clearly agitated. It rolled its head from side to side, as if trying to get water out of its ears.

"We're confusing it," muttered Rodriguez, looking at the Stegosaur with mingled interest and incredulity.

"They weren't the smartest of the dinosaurs that we cloned," said Wu, sitting back in the recess where he was crouched, "their brain to body ratio makes them very dim when compared to dinosaurs like the Velociraptors."

Now the Stegosaur had given up on rolling its head, and had turned to the right, towards the open plain that they had avoided. It shuffled off with a clumsy gait, its tail swinging from side to side with each step, held high above the ground.

A few minutes later they had all reached the ground, and were sitting on a log which the Stegosaur had knocked down. Anderson had swung his rifle over his shoulder, having checked the surrounding jungle and found nothing.

"I should have expected them to be here," said Tim, taking a gulp of water from his Evian bottle.

"How come?" asked Rodriguez.

"The Stegosaurus paddock was originally enclosed within the southern fields," said Wu, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his shirt sleeve, "I guess they never left. Either that or they periodically migrate between here and somewhere else."

"Why do you say that?" asked Tim, frowning.

"Well, the area around the geothermal plant had grass shorter than it should have been. Right Sarah?...Sarah?"

Wu looked over at Harding, who was crouched over Malcolm. She had a worried expression on her face as she inspected his leg. Malcolm still had a slightly grey tinge to his skin, and was breathing shallowly. His eyes were half closed, and had a glazed appearance. Sarah had removed his bandages, and was staring at his bite wound. The five inch long gash was looking red and angry, and was beginning to close up. The brownish dried blood on the bandage was speckled with green smears. As Sarah unzipped her bag and pulled out a roll of fresh bandages, she shot Tim a fleeting glance.

Wu felt suddenly uncomfortable. He knew that there was something odd going on with Malcolm. But he didn't want to believe what he was seeing. And it was very unlikely anyway; perhaps it was simply an ordinary infection.

"I'm curious to how the Stegosaurs have survived," said Tim. He was clearly averting his gaze from Malcolm, as he had turned towards where the Stegosaur had departed.

"What do you mean?" asked Sarah, re-bandaging Malcolm's leg.

"Well, the Stegosaurs used to ingest a very rare type of berries that caused them to get sick every month, at the end of their migration route."

"The lilac berries?" asked Wu, surprising himself as he remembered that scrap of information from his working days at the park.

"Yeah. Used to give them imbalance, diarrhea, disorientation in most cases. But InGen had several fatalities. And we only bred a dozen or so. So by now they should have died out."

Wu shrugged. "Why don't we go take a look?"

Anderson looked up sharply. "What?" he said.

"Well, we're never going to be back here again. If we're ever going to find out, it has to be now."

Tim nodded immediately, but Anderson was frowning. "We need to keep moving," he insisted.

"It'll only take a few minutes," said Wu, standing up.

Sarah shook his head. "Ian needs to rest," she said firmly.

"Well," said Wu, putting on his pack, "that's fine. I, Tim and Anderson will go take a look, you guys can stay here. We'll be back in a minute."

Wu pulled back the fronds in front of him, and stared out at the open plain of the Southern Fields. He couldn't help but smile as he saw a whole herd of Stegosaurs which were stalking across the grass, growling and groaning.

"Should have died out, huh?" breathed Anderson.

"There must be at least 15 of them here," whispered Tim. "Four adults, eight sub-adults and three infants, from the look of them."

"…How?" asked Anderson, staring at them in amazement.

"Well," said Tim, "before you visited the island, Dr. Harding reported that the Stegosaurs may be ingesting the lilac berries when they took in stones to help digest their food."

"Dr. Harding? Sarah worked here?" asked Anderson.

"No, Dr. Jerry Harding, the head veterinarian," said Tim absently.

Anderson frowned for a second, but shrugged.

"I never read about any of that in the archives," continued Tim.

"Well, it was only reported on the day that we all headed home for the weekend. I doubt it would have been sent back to the mainland before Nedry shut down the park systems."

"Okay, so they ate the berries when they took in the stones," said Tim, "but why are they still alive now?"

"They could have developed immunity," suggested Anderson.

"No, I don't think they could have done, not this fast," said Wu, shaking his head.

"Then what?"

"Well, the berries could have simply all been eaten."

"But wouldn't the Stego's have died out long before that?"

"Not if there were other animals eating them too," said Wu, shrugging.

Tim raised his eyebrows, and then shrugged. "Makes sense," he said finally.

Anderson grunted, and stood up. "Well, you've got your answers. Now let's get back to the others. We need to get going."


	23. Chapter 21: Nest

Chapter 21

**Nest**

The brakes squeaked as the Jeep trundled to a stop on the remains of the overgrown eastern maintenance road. Sunlight filtered down through the treetops thirty feet above, casting leaf shaped shadows on the mud caked tarmac.

Dodgson clicked off the ignition quietly, and sat back in the warm black leather of his seat. The engine clicked occasionally in the comparative silence, and the jungle sounds seemed suddenly amplified. He listened for a moment to the drone of cicadas and the croaking of frogs, rubbing his forehead to clear his faint headache. Drumming his fingers on the inside of his door, he inspected the GPS display panel on the dashboard. It showed a blue tinted topographical map of the island, which slowly rotated in a three dimensional representation. The map was laced faintly with green contour lines, indicating major height variations. At the bottom right hand corner there was an arrow indicating north, and a scale in miles. On the south-eastern edge of the island, roughly half a mile inland, there was a bright red isosceles triangle, which was pulsating in brightness, pointing north, bearing the label 'Wrnglr'.

"You're sure this is accurate?" he asked Edgar, who sat beside him, typing on the laptop computer.

"I've doubled checked it, it's accurate within five feet," replied Edgar, not looking up from the screen. Edgar shifted his position in his seat slightly, adjusting the bundles of paper that he had laid out in front of him.

The red triangle showed their current location on the island, which was supported by an experimental private satellite system. Edgar was now imputing the first infa-red data compilation that Dodgson had downloaded from satellite overpasses of the island over the past several years. It would indicate the precise location of the first nesting site, and how to get there.

They had been driving agonizingly slow for over an hour to make it to the road. The road leading away from the East dock had been dangerously overgrown, and they had been forced to make several detours around fallen trees and tangles of vines, trying to find spaces big enough for the Jeep and the trailer, until they had made it to one of the wider maintenance roads – where they now sat – which was in good enough quality to drive on.

The air conditioning system was running at full blast in order to keep the temperature at a reasonable level; Dodgson didn't want the window down in this place. He actually felt quite comfortable in the cool atmosphere, despite the cramped conditions.

"Okay Lew, first compilation complete, uploading now," said Edgar.

Dodgson watched as a red loading bar appeared at the top of the GPS screen, which quickly scrolled across the screen, then disappeared. With a beep, a small blue circle appeared on the map, pulsating in the same way as the red triangle, reading 'Clstr1'. It was situated to the south west of them, near the southern tip of the island.

"Good," said Dodgson, "now we need our route."

Edgar began typing rapidly again. "Initiating Route Finder," he said.

Dodgson had studied the satellite images of the island carefully before arriving on the island, and had programmed in all of the roads on the island that looked in good enough condition to use. But he wasn't overly confident that he had done it properly, as he had programmed in the road that had led them here from the dock, and that had been a disaster.

He watched intently as Edgar hit the return key on the laptop, and then a white line began to snake its way from the red triangle, wiggling its way south, along the eastern road. After a mile or so, it diverged from the maintenance road, and ran along a dirt path for half a mile, heading west. Then it turned south again sharply, along a much wider road. This then carried on for another two and a half miles, until it came to a stop right next to the blue cluster.

Dodgson tapped the screen twice where the blue cluster was located. There was an electronic beep, and the map zoomed in. The scale changed from miles to hundreds of meters. Now it showed that the first cluster was only fifty meters away from the wider road, in the jungle.

Perfect, thought Dodgson. The wide road would provide an excellent quick getaway, should they need it.

"Ready?" he asked Edgar. He went to turn the key in the ignition, but paused when he saw Edgar's face.

Edgar was staring blankly at the laptop computer monitor, frowning slightly. His fingers were frozen, suspended over the keyboard in the typing position.

"What?" asked Dodgson irritably.

Edgar didn't say a word; he just span the laptop around in his lap so that Dodgson could see.

The screen was blank, except for a single green word in the top left corner: Login.

Dodgson raised his eyebrows. "What the fuck is this?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Edgar, shrugging.

"What do you mean you don't know? How the fuck did you get to that?"

"I didn't touch anything!"

"Oh, so it just did this by itself?"

"Lew, I activated the Route Finder, and then the whole screen filled with static. Then this popper up."

Dodgson rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. He recognized the signs; he was sure of what it was. But on this island…it couldn't be. "A radio network?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Looks like it," shrugged Edgar, turning the screen back to face him.

"But that'd need power to operate," whispered Dodgson, shaking his head.

"Well, are you sure the wrangler doesn't have some kind of onboard system?"

"No, why would it? I had this vehicle built to my exact specification."

"Maybe it's a dead system, like a leftover."

"You mean just a login screen?"

"Yeah, it could be."

"Only one way to find out," said Dodgson, "type your name."

Edgar looked at him strangely for a second, as if questioning his sanity. Dodgson knew that it wouldn't let him in if he did that; he just wanted to see if it was in fact an active radio network.

Edgar typed in his name, and hit the return key. He waited for a second, and then looked up, and shook his head.

"What happened?" asked Dodgson.

"Nothing," answered Edgar, "it froze for a second, and then went back to the login page."

"Try user."

Another second passed.

"Nothing."

Dodgson sighed, and scratched the back of his head. "Type help," he said suddenly.

Edgar shrugged, and began typing. The laptop whirred, and then Edgar looked up again. "'Are you new to the system?'" he read out.

Dodgson nodded.

Edgar hit the 'y' key, and the laptop whirred again.

"What now?"

"It's given us a username and password," said Edgar with raised eyebrows.

"Give it to me, I'll write it down," said Dodgson, pulling out a notepad.

"Username is 'User#1109' and password is 'gib307#&'," Edgar read out.

Dodgson scribbled it down, and tore the paper from the notepad, putting the scrap onto the dashboard in front of him. Edgar hit the escape button, and got back to the main screen. Dodgson waited impatiently as Edgar typed in the username and password they had just received, and hit the return key.

Edgar's mouth fell open as he stared at the screen, and turned the screen to face Dodgson.

**Jurassic Park Control Module**

Remote Access

"Impossible," said Dodgson immediately.

"Apparently not."

"I knew that Murphy was coming here for some fucking miracle cure, but he couldn't have reactivated the park systems. They were only planning to be here an hour or so."

"Maybe it's a residual charge or something," said Edgar, "or maybe it's stuck. Maybe it doesn't do anything."

Dodgson took the computer out of Edgar's lap, cursing, and hit the return key. The computer beeped, and the screen changed.

**Control Module – Latest Activity**

_06/09/93__0__7:17_

_Operation__Safety1 On_

_Operation: Safety2 On_

_Operation: Safety3 On_

_06/09/93 __0__7:1__8_

_Operation: Main Power On_

_06/09/93 __0__8:23_

_Operation: Fini.obj_

_20/10/93 23:47_

_Operation: System Failure__ IW power fail – fuel gen 0_

_13/06/07 __13:21_

_Operation: __Geothermal Plant Active_

_Operation: Login 'Hammond'__ GPlnt CT_

_Operation: __Access Power Distribution Network_

_Operation: __Initialize grid 'ZC-3'_

_13/06/07 13:23_

_Operation: Main Access _

_O__peration: Access Radio Network Access Denied_

_Operation: __Logout 'Hammond'_

_13/06/07 14:02_

_Operation: Login 'User#1109' __RAT_

"Jesus Christ," whispered Dodgson.

"What is it? Did something happen?" asked Edgar, leaning over.

Dodgson handed him the laptop, and waited as he read the page. When he'd finished, Edgar raised his head. "A key logger?" he asked.

"Yes," said Dodgson, nodding, "that shows the most recent commands that the system was given."

He took the computer back from Edgar.

"Now," he said, running his finger over the text, "everything above this 'System Failure' must have happened during the incident at the island. See the date?"

"Yeah; 1993."

"Exactly. Now…" Dodgson's voice faded away as he read the rest of the page.

"What?" asked Edgar.

"It's Murphy," breathed Dodgson, "he's been into the system. They're rerouting power. They're here, right now, on the island."

Edgar looked suddenly uncomfortable, and looked out of his window, as if expecting Murphy to have his nose pressed up against the glass.

Dodgson ignored him, and hit the return key.

Nothing happened.

"Maybe it really is a dead system," said Edgar, still peering out of the window.

"I doubt it," murmured Dodgson, rubbing his chin again, "it's managing to update recent activity fine. I think that we've simply logged into an account with elementary access. Read-Only. It's a blank account waiting to have an access level designated to it."

"Not extremely helpful then is it?" whispered Edgar unnecessarily.

"Well, never mind this now. We've got work to do," said Dodgson, putting the lid of the laptop down and stowing it in the glove box. He twisted the key in the ignition, and stepped on the gas.

Ten minutes later they turned off the eastern maintenance road, and began to drive along a narrow and overgrown dirt road. Dodgson accelerated along the path, the Jeep jostling them about. He could hear the trailer behind them bouncing around erratically. There were potholes every few meters where rainfall had collected as puddles, and elementary vegetation littered the ground. But overall it looked in good shape; it was obvious to him that dinosaurs used this road as a convenient route through the thick jungle. But he wasn't about to share this snippet of information with Edgar. Palm trees lapped against the windows, and Dodgson glanced occasionally at the GPS.

He noticed that he could just about make out a myriad of animal footprints that caked the surface of the mud, but they were flying past so quickly that he couldn't see them in any great detail. But even at these speeds he could tell that they ranged from palm sized prints to some to specimens several feet in length.

He was concentrating on the footprints on the road so hard that it took him a moment to react to the black shape that had just flown across the road thirty feet in front of them. It had only been there for a split second, but he knew it had been there, as Edgar had jumped so badly that he had hit his head on the roof of the Jeep. It had been pony sized, and it had been moving at great speed.

Dodgson slammed on the brakes, and the Jeep skidded on the hard dirt of the road. By the time they came to screeching halt, they had reached the place where the animal had been, seconds before. Edgar was looking intently out of his window, in the direction of the departed mystery animal. Dodgson was fairly unconcerned; an animal that size posed no threat to their strengthened vehicle. What he was concerned about was why it had been moving so fast; was it being pursued?

He looked out of his window, in the direction that the animal had come from. He saw nothing but jungle on the other side of the road, and he heard nothing but silence.

He looked at the road surface, and saw the latticework of footprints. He could easily tell which ones had been made by their mystery animal. Older prints were cracked and crumbling, but these ones were in fresh mud, and were layered over the top of the others. These prints were slightly larger than his hand, and reminded him of bird prints. Like an ostrich maybe. The toes were pointed into small claws, but Dodgson was fairly certain that they had been made by a herbivore.

He studied the other prints that lay on the road. There were many different kinds, of all shapes and sizes. Some were long and thin, with small claw-like toes. Some were massive and rounded, with Elephant-like toes. And as he stared hard he could just make out dozens of sets of tiny four toed tracks that barely made an impression in the mud.

He made to turn away, but something caught his eye. He looked at another pair of tracks, and his breath stuck in his throat. He was staring at a set of footprints that ran diagonally across the road, starting at the rear wheel of Edgar's side, and coming underneath the car and out of Dodgson's side, near the front wheel, and disappearing in to the jungle. They were massive, at least three feet long. And they ended in a three equally spaced, splayed claws.

"Lew?" Dodgson heard Edgar's voice from what seemed to be a long way away.

He could feel his chest tightening, and his heartbeat began to pulse in his neck. He gripped the steering wheel harder as he realized what he was looking at.

"Shit," he whispered.

"Lew?"

Dodgson's head snapped back up, and he looked at Edgar. He was looking at Dodgson curiously. It looked as if he hadn't noticed the tracks that surrounded them.

"What were you looking at?" he said.

"Nothing," said Dodgson, and hit the accelerator, but now taking much more care to be quiet.

They drove along in silence for a further three minutes before, with the guidance of the GPS; they turned left onto a much wider road. This one had been laid with thick tarmac, and was at least as wide as a dual carriageway. On one side there was a ten foot high fence that ran adjacent to the road. It was in ruins; the tendrils of wire hung loose, swinging in the breeze. Some sections had completely collapsed, while others were charred and blackened.

This road had almost no foliage growing on it, with only a few shoots of grass breaking up the grey of the road. There were also far less potholes to slow them down.

Dodgson stepped on the accelerator, and sped up to around forty miles per hour. For some reason it felt safer to be travelling at such speed.

"We're coming up on the first cluster," said Edgar, who was monitoring the GPS.

Dodgson nodded. "Get the gun ready," he said quietly.

Edgar unbuckled his seat belt, and reached behind them, fumbling with boxes and supplies. A second later he pulled the silver suitcase that Dodgson had shown him earlier into his lap, and opened the lid.

Dodgson began to slow the Jeep as Edgar pulled out the reflective grip and the silver connecting lead. The Jeep shuddered to a stop as Edgar snapped on end of the lead into the grip, and pulled the round capacitor out of the foam casing. With a quick look around, Dodgson opened the driver's side door, and got out. The air conditioned comfort was destroyed abruptly as he stepped out into the burning daylight. He felt sweat begin to stream from his forehead as turned to see Edgar snapping the capacitor into place and climbing out to join him.

"Where to?" asked Dodgson.

Edgar leaned back into the Jeep for a moment to look at the GPS. Then he came back out, and pointed into the trees to the left. "That way, about hundred and fifty feet."

Dodgson nodded, and, taking the gun, walked slowly into the jungle.

He was momentarily surprised by the amount of sunlight that was cut off as he passed into the trees, and how much hotter it was in there. His feet crunched on dead leaves, and his hearing was overcome by his own breathing and the jungle orchestra of frogs and insects. He heard Edgar enter the jungle a few feet behind him, and they both set off. Dodgson raised to gun in front of him, ready.

They walked along for a minute or so, stopping several times as they became trapped in tangles of vines. Slowly, the sounds of loud chirping and rapid footsteps came to their attention, and Dodgson could see a bright light up ahead, as if the trees ended. There was a clearing ahead. Dodgson turned to Edgar, and put his finger to his lips, and moved forward again. Now there was only a single line of fronds between them and the clearing. Dodgson reached up with his free hand and parted the foliage, and stared into the clearing.

In front of them there was a clearing roughly forty feet square, and it was filled with a dozen animals. They were approximately eight feet tall, and were orange in colouration. They had thin bodies, and long slender neck that formed S-shapes. They reminded him of ostriches, and he was sure that it was one of these that had run out in front of their Jeep a few minutes before.

In the middle of the clearing there were two mounds of dirt, with small indentations in the top. From one of the mounds came several high pitched squeaks.

"What are they?" asked Edgar from behind him.

"Gallimimus," whispered Dodgson, stepping back from the fronds.

"Dangerous?"

"Unlikely. Herbivorous."

He looked at the gun, and twisted the dial, setting it to minimum charge. "Okay, here's the deal," he whispered, "I'll zap one of the infants, you go out and grab it. I'll cover you and take out any adults that charge us, we walk away. We get back to the Jeep as fast as possible, you put the infant in the trailer, and we drive away. Got it?"

Edgar nodded.

"Good," whispered Dodgson.

He grasped the frond in front of him, parted it, and without hesitation, stepped into the clearing.

The Gallimimus looked up at him as one as he stepped into view, staring rather stupidly with apparent curiosity. Their vocalizations ceased altogether, and they seemed unsure of what to do. They just stood there.

Dodgson took this as a good sign; no immediate hostility. He moved forward a few paces, until he could see clearly into the first of the nests. Inside there was a perfect circle of long, narrow eggs which were slightly rounded at the bottom. But no live infants.

He moved forward a few more paces. The Gallimimus backed away from him, forming a huddle at the back of the clearing. The bore the same stupid expression on their faces, their massive eyes cocked to one side.

He peered into the second nest, and smiled. Inside was another circle of eggs. But two of these hatched. Two miniature Gallimimus stared up at him, and squeaked happily. They did an odd sort of dance, hopping from side to side while circling each other.

Dodgson raised the gun, and clicked a switch located to the side of the trigger. Immediately the capacitor began emitting an electrical whine. The electrical connector hummed, and the Gallimimus began chirping in agitation. Making sure that the dial was on minimal charge, he pointed the gun at the smaller of the infants. He squeezed the trigger slightly, and a red laser dot appeared on the forehead of the small Gallimimus. It looked up at him, and hopped up and down, still squeaking happily.

"Too easy," muttered Dodgson, and squeezed the trigger fully.

There was a split second flash of white light, and a spark flew from the tip of the gun, arcing through the air to strike the infant between the eyes. It screeched, and shuddered for a moment, before dropping to the ground, limp.

"Jack, get the kid," grated Dodgson, twisting the dial to quarter charge and aiming it at the adults. He knew that animals this size wouldn't need anything near full charge, but he also knew that they wouldn't like the sight of him zapping their young.

He was right; the moment he had knocked the infant unconscious, several adults chirped loudly in rage, and ran forwards.

Without blinking, he flicked the switch to the side of the trigger again. The gun whined louder this time, and the humming was far stronger, making the grip vibrate in his hand. The capacitor pulsed with each second. The Gallimimus were fast, charging across the clearing with great efficiency. In the corner of his eye he saw Edgar scramble forward into the nest, and pick up the disabled infant. He raised the gun, pointed it at the nearest of the adults, and fired.

There was a loud whooshing sound, like rushing wind, and a crack like an exploding firework. A fully fledged lightning bolt leaped from the end of the lightning gun, and struck the nearest Gallimimus in the chest. It squealed as it was lifted bodily from the ground and thrown backwards, where it lay crumpled and twitching.

At this sight, every dinosaur in the clearing roared. The ones charging him stopped in their tracks, cocking their heads sharply. They were afraid now, but their maternal instinct was almost as strong.

Behind him he heard Edgar's footsteps as he went crashing back into the jungle, heading for the Jeep. Slowly, Dodgson began backing up, towards the tree line. The Gallimimus now looked confused at the disappearance of their infant. They were eyeing Dodgson with the same docile curiosity that they had shown before; as if nothing had happened.

"Stupid…" muttered Dodgson, and turned his back on the dinosaurs, and walked into the trees. "This is going to be easier that I thought."


	24. Chapter 22: Rest Stop

Chapter 22

**Rest Stop**

Guiterrez frowned. He was walking behind the rest of the team as they skirted the edge of the southern fields, heading towards the lagoon. They had left the Stegosaurus herd almost three quarters of a mile away, and they had enjoyed comparative silence since then. Despite the unchanging heat and the sweat enticing humidity, there was now a welcome breeze that coursed through the trees, easing the stifling atmosphere. It was easier to breathe, and he felt a little better about their predicament.

But he was worried about Malcolm. He was walking along ahead of Guiterrez, limping slightly, but appearing determined. Sarah walked at his side, watching him closely. Guiterrez knew that he was putting on a brave face. It was quite convincing close up, but from a distance Guiterrez could see that every so often his leg would spasm, as if receiving an electric shock, and that it caused him great pain, as it caused him to stop. He blamed these momentary pauses on stones in his shoes or a need for a drink, but Guiterrez saw him wincing when Sarah wasn't looking. Malcolm appeared to be insistent on the fact that his leg was recovering, but Guiterrez was doubtful that he was getting any better. Nevertheless, he couldn't confront Ian about it when they were all walking in such close formation.

"Okay guys, take a break," called Anderson from the front of the group.

Guiterrez raised his eyebrows, surprised. But then he heard the gentle trickle of running water, and looked down. They had reached a small stream, roughly six feet across, and a few inches deep. Clusters of rocks that jutted several feet out from the ground littered the area around it, making miniature rapids.

"Oh yeah," breathed Guiterrez, hurrying over to the stream, and getting down onto his knees. He reached into the stream, and felt the delightfully cool water flow over his hands. Cupping them, he pulled his hands out from the stream to his face, slapping a puddle of sparkling clear water into his eyes. He sighed as he washed away the sweat and dirt of the jungle, enjoying the wonderful cooling sensation as the water began to evaporate. He repeated the process several times, washing his arms as well.

Beside him Anderson propped his rifle against one of the rocks, and sat down on another. He opened his bag, and brought out his water bottle. He popped the lid, and refilled it from the river.

Guiterrez copied him, and looked around. Running along the banks of the river was a small beach of pebbles. Sunlight poured into the small space in the jungle. Bird calls floated down towards them from the tree tops further upstream. Rodriguez and Wu were also refilling their water bottles, chatting quietly. Sarah and Malcolm were sitting on a large rock behind them.

"Pepperoni pizza, extra cheese," Guiterrez heard Rodriguez say, chuckling.

"Oh, no, no. French toast," announced Wu, laughing openly, stuffing his water bottle back into his bag.

"What are you doing?" asked Guiterrez, taking a candy bar out of his pack, and tearing the wrapper off with his teeth.

"Naming the first thing we're going to eat when we get back," said Rodriguez, "We're going to celebrate."

Guiterrez shook his head as he chewed, but couldn't help smiling.

"So," he said, turning to Anderson, "after the rest stop, we carry on to the lagoon?"

"That's right."

"Any ideas on how we're going to get across?"

"We could swim," suggested Rodriguez, relaxing on the ground to catch his breath, "I mean, it couldn't be that deep, could it? It's a lagoon."

"I don't think that'd be a good idea," murmured Tim, coming out from behind a group of ferns.

"Where were you?" asked Sarah.

"Bathroom," he muttered absently. "No, swimming across wouldn't be the best option. If we did, and were spotted, we'd have nowhere to go."

"Wouldn't be a boat that we could use, would there?" asked Sarah.

"There used to be an old outhouse which had rubber dinghies in it, but we couldn't all fit in one, and they wouldn't be very good if something attacked us."

"Well, then what?" asked Malcolm, flexing his leg.

"I don't know, we'll have to decide that when we get there," said Anderson, checking his pack. He brought everything out, inspected each piece, and then repacked it carefully and neatly. Then he turned to the others.

"Guys," he said, "you all have your radios and headsets in your packs, right?"

There was a sudden rush of zipping and murmurs of 'yeah'.

"Good, we need them, so keep them safe."

Rodriguez brought out a small metal box, and opened it. "We still have this," he said, turning it for them to see.

It was the tranquilizer gun that they had recovered from the geothermal control room. The silver metal glinted dully in the sunlight. It was small and delicate looking, with the four long darts and the phial of green liquid it looked like some form of medical injection equipment.

"Does anybody else have weapons training?" asked Anderson.

Guiterrez nodded. He had used tranquilizer guns to sedate many wild animals during his studies in Costa Rica, including a howler monkey that had one of the first suspected InGen dinosaurs clutched in its jaws. "I can use one," he said, pulling the box towards him. He took the pistol from its place within the packing foam, and cracked open the chamber. He then took one of the darts out, and the phial of green liquid. Taking off the plastic cover on the tip of the needle, he punched the dart through the membrane on the phial, and withdrew the plunger to the top. He then began inserting the dart into the chamber.

"Wait, you're supposed to tap it," said Tim.

"Mr. Murphy, you do so to rid the air bubbles within the syringe, because it might cause heart failure. In this case, I'm not going to be too concerned about that," said Guiterrez calmly, snapping the chamber shut. He checked the safety, and put the gun into the back rim of his trousers. Then he filled the other darts with the tranquilizer fluid. He then took a specialized carrying belt that he had found in the side of the metal case, and inserted the darts into it. Making sure that the protective tips were on the rest of the darts, he put the belt around his waist, and clipped it in place.

For some reason the gun made him feel a lot safer. He knew that it wouldn't actually do him much good, especially with the larger animals, but at least it was something.

He breathed deeply for a moment, letting the gentle breeze wash over him.

"Hey Martin, fill that will you?" said Sarah, tossing him a water canteen from her pack.

Guiterrez caught it, and unscrewed the lid. A little resentful about leaving his momentary contentment, he got to his knees, and leaned over the small stream. He stuck the canteen underneath the surface, and felt the cold water wash over his hands again. The canteen bubbled from the tip, and he idly watched the flow of the river, watched the contours of the surface as it slowly traveled downstream.

And then slightly, ever so slightly, the water shuddered. Not in a small area, as if disturbed by fish, but the whole stream appeared to shiver. Guiterrez paused, forgetting about the water bottle. He waited for a few moments, watching the water closely. Once again, the stream shuddered.

Guiterrez frowned. He looked over his shoulder at the others. None of them had noticed anything, and were busy conversing over the procedures that they would need to reboot the central core systems of the island. Guiterrez turned back to the stream, and watched the water again, and waited.

The water continued to shiver over the next ten seconds, and it appeared to be happening more frequently.

Guiterrez didn't know what could be causing it. What could make a stream vibrate? Perhaps the electricity in the power lines trying to find a way through? Or some machinery underground?

He wasn't sure. But after a few more seconds it seemed doubtful. The change in speed of the shuddering deemed machinery out of the question. It was irregular, almost like a thumping.

The water shuddered once more, but this time it was accompanied by a sound. It was deep, low, and booming. It was barely audible above the rushing water beside him.

He was starting to get nervous now. But something kept him stuck in place, listening intently, his hands submerged.

Now he could feel the vibrations traveling through the water and up his arms. And the sound was building.

And then something in his head snapped into place; something was coming.

_Boom_.

Guiterrez's breath caught in his throat. He could still barely hear it, but it was definitely stronger than before. He cocked his head, and listened hard.

_Boom_.

His eyes widened. Something really was coming towards them. Something very large. The sound was now coming to the point where it was clearly audible. He was sure that the others would detect the next shudder, as now he could feel the very ground beneath him start to shake.

He was right. As the ground shook beneath him, the conversation between the group ceased immediately. Guiterrez sensed them all standing up behind him, shuffling around. Anderson grabbed his rifle, and Sarah whipped the pistol from the back of her trousers.

"What was that?" asked Rodriguez.

_Boom_.

"Guys," said Guiterrez, directing their attention towards the stream. Something else was happening now. As he watched, the booming sound rang out, now reverberating all around them, echoing in the jungle. And the water shuddered violently, and this time rippled with small concentric circles. It was very strange; Guiterrez has never seen water do that before.

"What is it?" asked Guiterrez. He looked over his shoulder, to see a mixed group of expressions. Rodriguez and Wu were looking around in an air of hesitant curiosity. Anderson was frowning, training his rifle in a wide arc at the jungle on the other side of the stream. But Tim, Sarah and Malcolm bore an identical expression of pure horror. Guiterrez felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of the fear that their faces conveyed.

"Impact tremors," whispered Tim. His breath was coming in shuddering gasps.

"What?" said Anderson, "what does that mean?"

But now Wu's face fell, and his expressions changed to that of somebody coming to a terrifying realization.

_Boom_.

"What the fuck is it?" asked Guiterrez, standing up.

Malcolm was backing up, and was looking around fervently. His face had gone deathly pale, as had Sarah's. "We have to hide. Now," Malcolm breathed.

Anderson pointed his rifle to a thick bush backing up against a large rock. It would provide good cover, and was easily big enough for all of them to hide inside.

Guiterrez was confused, but by the urgency of the other's words he complied. They all grabbed for their bags, and almost ran for the bush. Guiterrez dived in, and forced the leaves out of the way, settling in the center, repositioning a few branches to hide him best. The others were all squashed up alongside him, their breath heavy in his ears.

The booming sound was now loud in his ears, and the impact tremors made his body leap off of the ground by at least an inch.

"Why are we hiding?" he heard Rodriguez hiss to his right.

"Shut up," whispered Tim, "something's coming."

"What is?"

"Shh!"

Now the booming was almost ear-splitting. It seemed to be emanating from only a few meters away. Guiterrez could hear the blood rushing in his ears, and his heart seemed to be trying to crawl up into his throat.

Suddenly a massive foot slammed to the ground only two meters in front of the bush where they were hiding. It was over three feet long. It was dark green, and ended in three splayed toes, tipped with razor sharp talons. Another foot joined it a second later.

The feet paused. Whatever this was, Guiterrez thought, it was enormous. From somewhere far above them, there was a deep, menacing growl.

Beside him Guiterrez could hear the erratic breathing of the other's, and somebody to his right was shaking. He himself was fighting the urge to piss himself.

The left foot ahead of him took a single bounding step forward, making it to the bank of the stream. There was a loud rasping sniffing sound. Guiterrez changed a change in position, and peeked out of the top of the bush.

He almost screamed at what he saw.

Twenty feet above him, a massive head, almost five feet long was staring at the jungle on the other side of the stream. It was almost square in shape, and Guiterrez could see large jaw muscles working under the skin. The eyes were bright yellow, the rounded black pupil working in the socket furiously. There was a round hole just behind each of the eyes, which he guessed was an ear. But what scared him the most where the 30 centimeter long fangs that were protruding from the upper lip, curving backwards along their length. They were coated with blood.

The body was robust, and powerfully built. The torso was the same dark green color as the feet, but was a light yellow on the underbelly. Two tiny front limbs waved in the air, the two fingered hands flexing. Even from his position he could tell that this was a dinosaur of considerable size. He guessed that it was at least forty feet long.

Guiterrez was now trembling uncontrollably. His mind worked furiously, reaching back to his childhood, trying to find remember the name. He knew this dinosaur; everybody did. And then it clicked.

Tyrannosaurus Rex.

It was a T-Rex…the Tyrant Lizard King.

As he looked closer he could see that the dinosaur had a small animal clenched in its jaws. He frowned. Didn't dinosaurs usually eat their food right away, not carry it around with them? All of these questions made no sense to his stupefied brain.

The Tyrannosaur growled again, and took another step forward. It was now standing in the middle of the stream.

It stopped again. It knelt down, and sniffed. Guiterrez squinted into the stream. And then his chest clenched. He had left Sarah's water canteen in the stream. The Tyrannosaur rooted around in the water for a minute or so. It growled deeply, the sound reverberating in the jungle.

Then it raised its head again, and stood up. It took another step, and its head disappeared into the jungle. Now its long tail was swinging over their heads. Another bounding step and it was gone.

They waited for several minutes in complete silence, listening to the booming sound as it slowly dissipated. Finally, Anderson stood up, and crept out. He swung his rifle in a wide circle, and then signaled the all clear.

Guiterrez got shakily to his feet, and fought his way clear of the bush. He emerged slowly, and looked around at the others. They were all white as a sheet, and were drenched with sweat, their hair soaked through. He guessed that he was too.

"That was a…," whispered Rodriguez hoarsely.

"Yes," said Tim, "it was."

"I don't know about you guys," said Anderson from the bank of the stream, "but I'm not waiting around for it to come back. Let's get the hell out of here."


	25. Chapter 23: Fatal Error

Chapter 23

**Fatal Error**

"Second infa-red cluster coming up now," said Edgar, typing rapidly on the laptop computer. "Are you sure about taking live young Lew?"

"Yes, I am," said Dodgson, spinning the steering wheel in his hand as they hit a pothole. "No incubation period. We don't need to worry about breaking them. We just grab the scrawny things and _presto_, we're richer than the Queen of England. The world screams in appreciation, and we sit on a beach, drinking mojitos until we drop."

"What about that 'getting infected with the doomsday disease' thing?"

"Dinosaurs that young wouldn't be infected. It's spread through unsuccessful attacks by predators or sexually-transmitted. If an animal that young was wounded, likelihood is that it'd be taken by the predator. And anyway, the advantages outweigh the disadvantages as far as I'm concerned. If any of the bastards are infected, we put them down. We'll have plenty more to play with."

They were heading south along the main road, the Gallimimus nest behind them. Edgar shifted in his seat, putting the laptop at a different angle, so that the air conditioning hit him better. He hit the return key with a flourish, and watched as the loading bar appeared on the GPS screen on the dashboard. It scrolled across quickly, and disappeared. With an electronic beep, another red isosceles triangle popped up, two miles south of the first. It pulsated in brightness steadily, just like the first. Edgar sat back, and rested his head. Behind him he could faintly hear the rustles and bangs of the infant Gallimimus. It had started to wake up as soon as they had left the jungle ten minutes earlier. He had only managed to stuff it onto one of the cages in the trailer before it had started to kick and squeal.

"Good," said Dodgson, glancing at the GPS display. Edgar watched as the Route Finder program traced a route from their position to the second red triangle. They were close; perhaps only a mile and a half away. Dodgson accelerated, and the suspension on the Jeep squeaked as they rounded a corner. Out of Dodgson's window the electrical fence continued to run adjacent to the road, yet now it was well over thirty feet high. The fence still had the same run down look; blackened and charred. The metal was beginning to rust, and the concrete base was crumbling. They passed one section which had been completely flattened, as if it had been torn apart.

"Where do you suppose all the bodies go?" Edgar said.

"What?"

"You know, from all the dead dinosaurs. We've been here two hours and I haven't seen anything dead lying around."

"They end up washing up along the shores all over the place. I bugged the InGen place years ago. Murphy's been getting reports of carcasses washing up in the US, Central America and Ecuador." Dodgson glanced at the GPS for a moment as they came to a Y-Section in the road, and turned right.

Edgar frowned; that didn't make any sense. The dinosaurs all lived on the land. It was obvious that ocean currents caused them to wash up on the western shores of the mainland, but how did they get into the sea? "I hate to go poking holes in your report here," he said, "but our prehistoric friends all live on land."

"And you're wondering just how they make their way into the sea?" finished Dodgson, nodding.

"Right."

"From what we could discern from the conversations between Murphy and Wu disease interferes with the brain; the pituitary gland and cerebellum mostly. Makes the host think it's dehydrated, even when it isn't. Makes it stay near water, like a river. When the disease finally kills the dinosaur, it collapses right there, at the water source. Then a storm or something comes along, and the water level rises. The body is washed downstream to the sea."

"...Oh," said Edgar. "Well, how come none of the dinosaurs are sick now?"

"I don't know," said Dodgson, accelerating forwards again, "but it might come in recessive periods."

Edgar nodded and sighed. With another glance at the GPS display and saw that they were only a mile away from the second cluster.

He was suddenly thrown forwards in his seat as Dodgson slammed on the brakes, and the Jeep fishtailed on the dry tarmac.

"The hell?!" Edgar shouted. The seatbelt pressed painfully against his collar bone as they screeched to a stop, and he let out a rasping cough. The trailer crashed into the back of the Jeep with a metallic _wang_, and Edgar could hear the tiny Gallimimus scream and slam against the side of its cage as it struggled in panic. Swearing Edgar sat up, and stared out of the front of the windshield.

Less than five metres in front of them there was a mass of blackened metal. Edgar frowned, and leaned forward in his seat.

"What is it?" he said.

"It's a car," whispered Dodgson.

As Dodgson said it Edgar saw that he was right. The black mass was oddly shaped, and was bent and crumpled. Not to mention the fact that it was upside down. But it was definitely a car; or at least, had been.

To his surprise, Dodgson opened his door, and got out. Edgar watched silently as Dodgson walked over to the car in front of them, and inspected it. Edgar felt suddenly uncomfortable and vulnerable with the door wide open. Dodgson was crouching down, peering through the crushed window frame of the overturned car.

"What is it?" Edgar called out.

"Must be one of the tour vehicles," said Dodgson. "The one that was attacked."

With a glance around, Edgar got out and approached the vehicle. He came to stand on the other side of the car from Dodgson, and looked at the body of the car. Through the blackened metal he could faintly register a multiple coloured paintwork, and a series of stencilled vinyl running the length of the body. He leaned over and squinted. They read 'Jurassic Park'. "You're right," he said, "it is one of the tour vehicles."

Now Dodgson had gone down onto his stomach, and was clambering into the car.

"Is there anything inside?" Edgar said.

Dodgson crashed around for a few moment before re-emerging, and then stood up, holding a large blocky object that was coloured faintly green. He then nodded towards their Wrangler, and then headed back towards the Jeep. "Just this," he said, handing Edgar the object as he climbed back into the driver's seat.

Edgar turned the object in his hands as he ducked down into the Jeep, and inspected it. It was caked in dried mud, and was twisted out of shape. It was largest at the front, with tendrils of burnt wiring sticking out in odd places. The back looked like a headband, as if the object was to be placed over the eyes. He turned it over again, and a glint of reflected sunlight flashed into his eyes. There was broken glass at the front. He scratched it with his fingernails, and removed some of the mud, revealing a piece of broken glass. As he continued to remove the mud he saw that the glass was arranged into two eyeholes. "They're night vision goggles," he said, showing them to Dodgson.

"Not useful then," muttered Dodgson, strapping on his seatbelt. "Throw it out."

"Whatever," said Edgar, and pressed a button beside him, unrolling the window. Carelessly, he threw it out onto the tarmac, where it hit the ground with a _crack_. Dodgson span the wheel in his hands, and stepped on the accelerator. They sped off, around the car in the middle of the road, and continued along the main road.

"What could have done that?" asked Edgar, dusting his hands to get off the specks of dried mud.

"What could have done what?" said Dodgson, staring out through the windshield intently.

"Dude, stop bullshitting. You saw that thing back there, buckled out of shape like that. Something flipped that car over and crushed it. Now tell me, what the hell was it?"

Dodgson didn't answer him.

Edgar frowned. "Lew. You said that the dinosaurs nested near their old territories, which means that we're heading towards whatever did that back there. And judging by the height of the fence on the side of the road right now I'm guessing it ain't no pixy."

"So what if it is," said Dodgson irritably, "it doesn't matter what the fuck it is. We have to get all the species."

"_What species is it?"_

Dodgson grunted, and turned to look at him. "Tyrannosaurus Rex."

Edgar felt a chill wash over him. He'd seen the escaped Tyrannosaur from his television set years ago, during the San Diego incident. It had been documented heavily since then, and snippets of information that he never wanted to know jumped into his mind as his eyes widened. "Do we have to?" he heard himself say.

Dodgson looked at him with a hint of disgust. "Shut up," he said, "That gun could take down a herd of Elephants."

"Lew, it's been tested once, against a bunch of featherless ostriches."

"It'll work," said Dodgson bracingly, "anyway, this Jeep has been strengthened more than enough."

Edgar was hardly comforted after seeing what had happened to the other car. To distract himself, he brought the laptop off the dashboard, and began typing again, gathering the data for the third compilation.

As he was accessing the file containing the infa-red data, the drives whirred, and screen went black. He frowned, his fingers poised over the keyboard. Once again, the word 'Login' had appeared in the top-left corner of the screen.

"The hell..." he muttered to himself. He sat back, and sighed. He hit the escape key, hoping to get back to the previous screen. Nothing happened.

He swore to himself.

"What?" said Dodgson.

"Nothing," said Edgar, picking up the notepad with the username and password on it. "Just that stupid radio network again."

"Check it out," muttered Dodgson, spinning the wheel slightly, "see if Murphy's logged in again."

"Yeah...," said Edgar, punching in the username and password that the system had given them earlier. The welcome screen popped up.

**Jurassic Park Control Module**

Remote Access

He hit the return key, accessing the update screen. The drives whirred for a moment, before clicking into place. The update screen appeared, and he squinted at the data.

**Control Module – Latest Activity**

_06/09/93 07:17__Operation: Safety1 On__Operation: Safety2 On__Operation: Safety3 On__06/09/93 07:18__Operation: Main Power On__06/09/93 08:23__Operation: Fini.obj__20/10/93 23:47__Operation: System Failure IW power fail – fuel gen 0__13/06/07 13:21__Operation: Geothermal Plant Active__Operation: Login 'Hammond' GPlnt CT__Operation: Access Power Distribution Network__Operation: Initialize grid 'ZC-3'__13/06/07 13:23__Operation: Main Access __Operation: Access Radio Network Access Denied__Operation: Logout 'Hammond'__13/06/07 14:02__Operation: Login 'User#1109' RAT_

_13/06/07 14:48_

_Operation: NOTICE; 'ZC-3' initialized_

_Operation: 'ZC-3' power levels 27_

_13/06/07 14:53_

_Operation: 'ZC-3' power levels 41_

"Anything new?" asked Dodgson.

"Nothing much," said Edgar, "the part of the island that Murphy reactivated is online and building charge. But he hasn't logged in again."

"Good," said Dodgson.

Edgar began hitting random buttons, trying to access some new part of the system by chance, or get back to the infa-red data.

"What are you doing?" asked Dodgson.

"Trying to get back to the data files, or get to another part of the radio system."

"Well, how did you do it last time?"

"I didn't. We went to the Gallimimus nest, and then when we got back it was gone."

"Well, we must have lost the signal or something. Just leave it, and we might lose it again."

Edgar shrugged, and shut the lid of the laptop. He put it up on the dashboard, along with the notepad. "How far until we get to the next nest?"

"We're almost there," said Dodgson.

Edgar nodded, and reached behind him. He grabbed the large shiny suitcase, and brought it into his lap. Popping the lid, he opened it up, and stared at the gun pieces inside. With a grunt, he picked up the capacitor, and began assembling it.

Dodgson slowed the Jeep as Edgar slipped the connecting cord into the grip, and slotted in the capacitor. The brakes squeaked quietly as they trundled to a stop, and they both sat in the quiet, listening. Dodgson clicked off the ignition, and took a deep breath. The engine clicked as the sounds of the jungle floated over to them. On their right side, the fence towered over the top of them, glinting in the sunlight. On their left was a sea of greenery, a mass of primary rainforest that seemed to go on for miles. Edgar checked the GPS, and looked at the red triangle in relation to their position. The Tyrannosaur nest was on the left, in the jungle.

"Lew...we could get the others and come back to this," said Edgar quietly. Now that he was here, he really didn't want to do this. The Tyrannosaurus Rex was the most feared Dinosaur ever to be discovered. His heart was beating faster in his chest, and he was finding it hard to keep the calm in his voice.

"Jack, we need this. Even if all the others don't make it, this single species could make us richer than you can imagine."

With that, Dodgson got out of the Jeep, and looked around. Edgar followed him, and stared into the jungle. The hairs on his neck stood up in the heat of the day. They were in there, somewhere, close by. He didn't like the idea of being so close to their nest unprotected. He stared into the jungle intently, looking for any sign of movement; perhaps a flock of birds exploding from the canopy or the rustle of leaves.

But the jungle sat quietly in the late afternoon sun, the greenery shimmering in the heat wave. He walked around the back of the Jeep, treading carefully. Inside the trailer he could hear the infant Gallimimus chirping happily. He approached Dodgson, and handed him the gun.

"Okay, same deal as before," muttered Dodgson, checking the gun over. "We go in together; I step out, and shock one of the infants. You get it while I keep the adults back."

"You're sure that gun can handle them?" said Edgar tensely.

In response Dodgson snarled and shoved him roughly into the jungle. Edgar stumbled as he passed the tree line, into the dense vegetation.

It was dark underneath the trees, surprisingly so. The sun was beginning to get lower in the sky now, and Edgar really wanted to get off the island before it got too low. He quickened his pace, taking care not to tread on any of the twigs that littered the ground. He could hear Dodgson walking behind him, making what sounded to him like a lot of noise.

"H-How big are they?" he heard himself utter over his shoulder.

"Around forty feet long, twenty feet high maybe," whispered Dodgson, bending a low overhanging branch out of his way.

"Jesus, they're as big as a house," said Edgar in a voice that wasn't his own. Sweat was pouring down his chest now underneath his shirt. He tried to steady his breathing, taking slow, deep breaths. He also noticed that his knees were beginning to twitch.

"They have poor visual acuity, similar to that of Frogs," said Dodgson.

"What the fuck does that mean?" hissed Edgar, his panicked mind struggling to absorb the complexity of Dodgson's words.

"It means that they don't see stationary objects well."

"Yes, that's very interesting, but why are you—"

"I'm telling you this because if something does go wrong, they won't see you if you don't move."

"How could you possibly know that? I mean, they've been extinct for millions of years."

"Another fact that I managed to liberate from InGen."

"Figures..." muttered Edgar.

He stopped suddenly, causing Dodgson to bump into him, cursing. He smelt something in the air, something strange. It had a sweetish, tangy quality to it. He looked around carefully, looking for the source of the smell. But there was just the same, untouched foliage.

"What?" hissed Dodgson.

"That smell..."

"So what?"

"How far in did the GPS say the nest was?" said Edgar, struggling to remember.

"Hundred metres or so."

"What if they can see us right now? Like...what if they're hiding?"

"I don't give a fuck, keep moving."

Dodgson gave Edgar another shove in the small of the back, and he stumbled forwards again. As his left foot came down, there was a resounding _crack_ as his foot came into contact with a hard bundle of objects, and a horrible crunching sound that echoed sickeningly through the trees.

Edgar froze instantly, closing his eyes as he silently cursed himself. From the sudden silence he could tell that not only had Dodgson frozen behind him, but that all of the jungle sounds had ceased altogether. There was no croaking of Frogs, or buzz of insects. Complete silence.

He held his breath, listening intently, not daring to move a muscle. His blood raced in his ears, and his heart felt like it was trying to claw its way into his throat.

They both stood stock still in complete silence for over twenty seconds. Edgar's muscles began to ache from his awkward position, only the toes of his left foot in contact with the ground.

He chanced a glance at the ground where his left foot lay, trying to discern what he had stepped on. His chest cavity gave a lurch as he realized that he was standing on the skeleton of a small dinosaur. It was in the later stages of decomposition, with only a few scraps of skin and flesh adhering to the bones. He could see that several of the bones, such as the femurs and some of the ribs can be sheered in half. He guessed that the section in between the two areas indicated the bite radius of whatever killed it. Even from his precarious angle he could tell through a rough calculation in his head that the predator of this creature had a mouth well over a foot wide.

He swallowed hard.

And then, through the trees, came a low growl. It rose ever so steadily, building from nothingness. The very air in his lungs seemed to vibrate. The growl felt as if it lasted for an age, reverberating through the jungle. And then there was a deep shudder that ran through the ground, like a miniature earthquake. The leaves on the trees swayed from side to side slightly, and the bones on which his foot lay jostled around.

_Boom._

It was walking, he realized. There was Tyrannosaur near them, very near to them, walking. He shivered.

He looked over his shoulder at Dodgson, asking silently what to do.

Dodgson felt up his hand, signalling to wait.

They stood still for another minute, but no other sounds rang through the jungle. Still, Dodgson signalled for them to remain still. Edgar could see Dodgson's eyes darting around, searching the branches of the trees high above their heads.

It was only when the chorus of the jungle resumed that Dodgson nodded, and pointed the way forwards.

Cautiously, and with a great amount of effort, Edgar managed to move his legs, and crept forwards. The knees were now quaking violently, and he was finding it difficult to prevent himself from breaking into a run back to the Jeep. But then he reminded himself of how much they needed this. How much _he_ needed this. Anyway, Dodgson would probably zap him if he did anything of the sort.

Another growl rang through the trees suddenly, directly ahead of them. It was alarmingly close, and was accompanied by another deep, booming footstep. Edgar could now see that the trees were in fact thinning. Dodgson tapped him on the shoulder, and pointed to their right.

Silently, they slunk forward a few metres, and then Dodgson pushed Edgar into a crouching position. He could see that there was now only a thin barrier of foliage between them and the clearing ahead. The air smelt pungent, like rotting flesh.

Beside him Dodgson pulled a leaf from a branch next to him, held it up in the air, and then dropped it. Slowly, it fell to the ground, but blowing back against them as it did so.

So they were downwind. So they wouldn't be able to smell, them, and apparently if they didn't move they wouldn't be seen either. The tight knot that had woven itself in between Edgar's heart and lungs loosened slightly as this comforting information. He was starting to think that perhaps these animals weren't quite as dangerous as he had previously believed.

But his newfound optimism was cut short by the sudden disappearance of the bright light ahead of them. Edgar frowned. It was as if the sun had been switched off.

_Boom._

Another footstep. His eyes widened as he realized that the Tyrannosaurs had moved, and he was standing in their shadow.

Dodgson reached up ahead of them, and parted the fronds between them and the clearing, holding the gun ready.

Beyond them there was a small clearing in the jungle, roughly the size of two tennis courts. The foliage had been almost completely removed, the bare red earth carpeting the floor. Sunlight struck the ground, unobstructed by foliage, casting an eerie yellow glow. In the centre there was a single mound of mud, roughly two feet off the ground. Emanating from the mound was a series of high squeals and chirps. But none of this registered to Edgar's mind at first.

His mouth fell open as he stared at the two massive figures that dominated most of the clearing. Two Tyrannosaurs stood on either side of the mud mound in the centre of the clearing. They were immense, standing at least twenty feet off of the ground. Their heads were box shaped and solid-looking. The wide eyes stared downwards at the nest, the vertical slit-like pupils fixated in a chilling stare. Their nostrils dilated with every breath, their massive chest cavities rising and falling. Their teeth looked like bread knives, and were coated with a thin film of blood.

The dinosaurs were a dark reddish colour, which made them look oddly out of place against the perpetually green background of the jungle. Their bodies were heavily muscled, most noticeably on their hind limbs and shoulders. It was clear from a glance that they weighed several tonnes each. Now that he saw them, he highly doubted that their Jeep would stand a chance against either of them.

As he watched, one of the Tyrannosaurs bent down towards the nest below, and growled softly. The squeaking from inside the mound came again.

The other Tyrannosaur growled too, though slightly higher pitched than the first. Edgar noted that this Tyrannosaur appeared to be slightly larger than the other one.

Edgar looked at Dodgson, and saw that Dodgson looked far calmer than he felt. Edgar was shaking from fright and adrenaline, barely able to hold his position.

But Dodgson looked at him calmly, and nodded. And to Edgar's amazement, Dodgson stood up straight, raised the gun in front of him, and walked into the clearing.

Edgar's breath caught in his throat as he watched. Dodgson took one step into the clearing, and stopped, holding the gun tightly. Both of the Tyrannosaurs paused instantly, and turned their massive heads to face him.

They looked momentarily confused and shocked that an animal had wandered so carelessly into their nest. But a second later their surprise had been replaced by blind fury.

The larger Tyrannosaur roared; a terrifying scream which made his insides turn to ice. There was sudden burst of scared dinosaur's vocalisations from all around them. The other Tyrannosaur lowered its head, and took a bounding step forward.

Dodgson remained completely calm, and moved his hand up to press the button on the side of the gun. It emitted a low buzz, and he twisted the dial on the top. It gave a shudder in his hand, and then sat quietly.

The larger Tyrannosaur roared again, and moved to stand in front of the nest. Edgar was sure that the sound of its roaring would be heard by Murphy and his team, wherever the fuck they were.

The other Tyrannosaur snarled viciously, and took another bounding step forward. Now it was only twenty feet away from them.

Dodgson raised the gun, aiming it at the torso of the Tyrannosaur, and squeezed the trigger slightly. A red dot appeared in the middle of the Tyrannosaur's chest, the red beam of light cutting through the clearing.

Unperturbed, the Tyrannosaur growled at him as he moved. When he paused, it gave a high bark of agitation, and made to step forward again.

Dodgson squeezed the trigger. A spark shot from the tip of the gun, and impacted one of the claws on the Tyrannosaur's left forearm.

The Tyrannosaur shrieked, and took a step backwards in shock. It shook its head from side to side, and roared menacingly. But the dinosaur was hesitant now. It eyed Dodgson with a frustrated gaze, cocking its head from side to side. The other Tyrannosaur continued to watch from behind, guarding the nest. The squeaks from inside the mound were now far more insistent.

The smaller Tyrannosaur was now looking more confident, but appeared uneasy at the fact that Dodgson had stopped moving once again. It was shifting on the balls of its feet, cocking its eyes. Edgar could see the eyeball working in the socket, as if searching for him. Hesitantly, it took a small step forward.

Fluidly, Dodgson twisted the knob on the top of the gun, and waited as the gun emitted a loud whine, and vibrated more powerfully in his hand. He fired.

There was a _whoosh_, like the rush of wind, and a bolt of lightning leapt from the gun, and struck the Tyrannosaur square in the chest.

It screamed, and stepped backwards again. It looked suddenly confused, and began shaking its head violently from side to side. Then its eyelids drooped, and it began to topple to the left. It almost fell over, but then its eyes snapped back open, and it righted itself, still shaking its head. The Tyrannosaur groaned for a moment, and then fixed its stare back on Dodgson, and roared in fury.

"Son of a bitch," Edgar heard Dodgson mutter. "Jack, get out here."

"_What?_" Edgar squeaked in a strangled voice.

"I said get the fuck out here right now. Get one of the kids."

"I don't think Mummy and Daddy will like that," he muttered, not daring to move. Dodgson was insane. He would never be able to subdue both of the Tyrannosaurs.

"They may not like it, but they won't be able to do anything about it when they're unconscious. _Now get out here!_"

Edgar cursed to himself, and stumbled out into the clearing. At his appearance both Tyrannosaurs roared at him and the closer of them took a step forward, its confidence restored.

"Eat this," grated Dodgson, and twisted the dial all the way to full setting. The gun gave an ear-splitting whine, and it vibrated so much that Dodgson had trouble holding on to it. Edgar watched, trying to steady his shaking legs, as Dodgson lifted the gun and fired.

Edgar's hair flew up as the gun emitted a rush of wind in all directions, and made a sound like a gunshot. Dodgson flinched for a second, cursing. And then for single terrifying moment nothing happened. Edgar almost pissed his pants as the Tyrannosaur bared its 30 centimetre long fangs, and stalked forwards.

Then a huge bolt of white hot electricity blasted out of the gun, twisting and arcing through the air. The Tyrannosaur only had time to roar when the bolt slammed into its neck. Its eyes bulged out of its skull, and it made a low growl. It's limbs tightened and convulsed. Then its eyes rolled back in its head, and it fell forwards.

The ground shook with the impact, lifting Edgar's feet off the ground for a moment. There was deafening silence as Edgar looked at the fallen Tyrannosaur, which lay silently, its eyes closed.

Glancing at Dodgson, he saw him switch the gun from his left hand to his right, shaking his left, which had turned an angry red colour. Edgar frowned to a second, but then realized that there was still another Tyrannosaur in the clearing. He snapped his head up.

The second Tyrannosaur looked at its fallen mate for a moment, and then at Edgar and Dodgson. And then with a low, furious snarl, it bared its massive fangs, and roared. It made to take a step forward, but Dodgson raised the gun again.

The Tyrannosaur paused; it's foot in mid-air, eyeing Dodgson. It remembered, thought Edgar. It was learning. Dodgson seemed to have been counting on this. He turned the dial down to a lower setting, and aimed at the ground at the Tyrannosaur's feet. He fired, and a spark of lightning flew out, and struck the ground.

The Tyrannosaur yelped, and stepped back. It now stood over the top of the nest, from which Edgar could hear the infants inside, screaming.

Edgar glanced at Dodgson again, and saw then he was sneering. Edgar could hardly believe that he could do such a thing. Edgar was petrified. He had never been so scared in his life. His legs felt like jelly. But Dodgson took it all in his stride. He blasted another spark at the Tyrannosaur's feet, driving it back. It yelped, and took another booming step back. The infants inside the nest were screeching, and Edgar could now hear them scrabbling around, trying to escape.

The adult now seemed to be torn between self preservation and protecting its young. Dodgson then issued a series of bolts in quick succession, and the Tyrannosaur had no choice but to back up.

Dodgson continued this process several more times, until the Tyrannosaur stood twenty feet back from the nest, at the rear of the clearing. All the while Dodgson and Edgar advanced into the clearing, towards the mound of dirt in the centre. Now they stood parallel to the fallen adult; Edgar could hear its deep, steady breathing.

"Jack, get one of the kids, now," said Dodgson, and walked forwards several more paces. Edgar shuddered at the thought of what he was about to do, and hesitantly followed. They now stood at the base of the mound, the squeaking infants now only a few feet away.

Edgar shakily began to climb the small hill, keeping his eyes fixed on the adult Tyrannosaur, which was shifting uneasily at the tree line. He reached the lip of the hill, sweat pouring along his nose, and peered over the edge.

Inside there were four miniature Tyrannosaurs. They looked very much like their parents, but their heads and eyes were larger in proportion to their bodies, and they had a ring of fluffy down around their necks. They looked up at him with wide eyes, and squeaked in fear. They stood frozen, their heads pulled in closer to their shoulders.

"Grab one," hissed Dodgson from the bottom of the mound, eyeing the remaining adult.

Edgar took a step down into the mound, scattering small stones and mud everywhere. The infants squeaked in alarm, and the adult roared. It took a step forward menacingly.

To Edgar the message was clear; the adult would not tolerate him going any further. Shaking, Edgar took another step down into the nest, and waited for Dodgson to disable one of the infants.

Slowly, Dodgson began to walk up the side of the mound, keeping the gun trained on the Tyrannosaur. But that was it.

The Tyrannosaur roared, and lowered its head, baring its fangs again.

"Lew, shock it!" shouted Edgar, "Now!"

Dodgson grabbed the dial on the top of the gun, his fingers slipping on the metal, and set it to full charge. He raised the gun as the Tyrannosaur made to take another step forward, and fired.

Once again there was an ear-splitting whine, and Edgar felt his hair fly up once again. But then something new happened. There was an acidic hiss, and the whine stopped suddenly. And then Dodgson yelled. Edgar snapped around to watch as the gun flew from Dodgson's hand, soaring through the air to land several feet away. The skin of Dodgson's hand was raw, and looked badly burnt. Time seemed to slow down as Edgar watched turned to look at the adult Tyrannosaur, and he groaned.

There was complete silence for a moment. And then, almost snidely, the Tyrannosaur gave a long, reverberating growl. Edgar and Dodgson had both frozen, staring forwards almost sightlessly. Edgar could feel his heart hammering against the wall of his chest, and his breathing was shallow and erratic. The Tyrannosaur was staring at the location in which they were, but Edgar could see that it was confused by their lack of movement. It had stopped moving, standing still, and had stopped its vocalisations. Perhaps Dodgson was right, and it really couldn't see them if they didn't move.

Suddenly one of the infants lurched forwards, and clamped its jaws around Edgar's right ankle. He yelled in pain, and kicked out. The infant remained fastened to his leg, and gave a yank. Edgar lost his balance and they both went tumbling over the side of the nest. Edgar yelled as stones rained down all around them as they rolled down the outside together, and then the air shook as the adult roared.

Oh shit, thought Edgar. He was going to die. Panicking, he lashed out viciously, and kicked the infant in the face with his free foot. It screeched in pain and shock, and detached itself from his ankle as his boot came into contact with its eyes.

Edgar scrambled to hit feet, and chanced a peek at the Tyrannosaur. It had lowered its head, and was charging across the clearing towards him. The ground was shaking violently, and he found it hard to stay on his feet. His blood rushed in his veins, and he felt a sudden surge of adrenaline. A quick glance told him that Dodgson had turned tail and ran for his life, his arms over his head, back towards their Jeep.

But Edgar had no intention of going back there. If the Tyrannosaur caught him inside, he wouldn't stand a chance. He had no faith in any of the strengthening that it had undergone; his panic stricken mind was far beyond listening to reason.

Swearing, and terrified, Edgar sprinted into the jungle on his right, away from the Jeep. He could hear the shrieking of the infant which he had kicked from his ankle. It sounded as if it was agony, but he couldn't care less. In fact, he found himself gaining some strange joy out of the fact that he had managed to injure it. The ground continued to shake, and he could hear the adult roaring furiously.

He had no idea where he was going, what he was going to do. He just ran for his life.

But after several minutes of running, he couldn't possibly run anymore. He scrambled forwards on his hands and knees, wedging himself in between a rock and a thick bush. He stood as still as he could, panting frantically. His lungs seared with each breath, and he struggled to get enough Oxygen to his brain. His vision was drifting in and out of focus, and he swayed momentarily on his feet.

As he slowly recovered, he came to the sudden realization that he was completely alone. Only the sounds of the insects and frogs accompanied his panicked breathing.

The Tyrannosaur had gone after Dodgson.


	26. Chapter 24: Tyrannosaur

Chapter 24

**Tyrannosaur**

"Quiet," said Anderson, holding up his hand. The group stopped in mid-step as the deep vibrations ran through the ground beneath them. John glanced back, and saw the others looking to him, their hair slick with sweat.

Beneath the canopy it was stiflingly hot, and the close confines of the jungle made it almost impossible to breath. Anderson had been slicing away with his machete at the ferns that smothered the bases of the trees, standing seven feet off the ground. Now it hung loosely at his side as he listened to the deep booming that ran through the floor of the jungle. A massive road suddenly blasted through the trees to their left, making the air seem to quiver. He sensed the others flinch involuntarily behind.

They stood in silence for a minute, not daring to move. Anderson was sure that it was the Tyrannosaur that had passed them half an hour before, and that it was some distance away. But he dare not move, he had no idea about the sensory capabilities of these animals, and he was sure that they were far safer if they just stayed still until it passed. The roars continued to ring out through the jungle for several minutes, along with a slightly different, slightly higher pitched version, which seemed to be coming from another location.

Great, he thought, so now there were two of them. That's just what they needed right now.

What he couldn't figure out was what they were roaring at. They sounded furious, almost livid. The roars were threatening, as if they were trying to drive away some aggressor. But in the thick jungle he could barely see more than a few meters in front of him.

Suddenly there was a harsh sound which blasted through the trees from the same direction of the roaring Tyrannosaurs, like rushing winds. Then there was a loud bang, and an anguished roar from one of the Tyrannosaurs.

Anderson waited for a moment in perpetual silence; the jungle chorus of insects and frogs around him had gone completely quiet. Then there was an almighty crash.

One of the others began to speak behind him in a desperate whisper. "What's—"

"Shh!" said Anderson, making a violent movement with his hand.

A yell rang through the forest, a human yell. What was going on? There couldn't be other people on the island. He glanced over his shoulder, to make sure that the rest of the group was all there. A quick count of heads confirmed that they were all present. He was surprised to see that Tim had a look a fury on his face, his clenched fists shaking.

Anderson was confused. His briefing back on the mainland had informed him that a handful of people even knew that the island was anything but a blackened crater, and most of them were standing behind him. How could there possibly be other people here?

A sudden thought occurred to him; rescue.

Had somebody picked up their mayday call as they went down? Was somebody here to help them? If so, they were in trouble. And even if it wasn't a rescue team, they had to help. Anderson wasn't prepared to leave somebody to the Tyrannosaurs.

He looked at the others for a second, and pointed towards the source of the sounds. They all looked at him as if he was insane. He shook his head.

"I'll go then," he whispered, "you stay here."

But at the notion of being left along they all shook their heads furiously and followed him quickly.

Malcolm's face was screwed up in the pain of holding his position, his bandaged leg shaking beneath him. He was looking a little paler than usual, and beads of sweat clung to his face, but Anderson noticed that they all looked similar. They could deal with it later.

He nodded to Sarah, and she took out the pistol from her waistband. The booming of the Tyrannosaur's footsteps still shook the ground, but they seemed further away now. Another roar rang through the jungle. The answering roar that he expected did not come.

Something must have happened to one of the Tyrannosaurs, or perhaps it had moved off, pursuing something. Anderson moved off quickly into the jungle. Behind him, he could barely hear the others following him hastily over the booming and roaring.

The sounds of the Tyrannosaurs were definitely fainter now; the ground was now hardly shaking. Anderson quickened his pace, now almost running through the trees, ducking branches and casting ferns aside. He moved as quickly and quietly as possible. Honestly, he didn't know what he was going to do to help once he found them, he was sure that unless he got a decent head shot his weapon would be little more than a distraction. But something drove him to keep moving. Behind he could hear the others crashing through the trees in his wake, making a lot more noise.

"John," he heard Rodriguez whisper harshly, "what are you doing? You're going to get us killed!"

Anderson ignored him, and continued to charge through the trees. He wasn't going to let anybody else die.

The jungle suddenly stopped. Light burned down from above, making him squint as he burst out into the open. He put up his hand to shield his eyes for a moment, and looked around quickly. He stood in a large clearing, with bare red earth showing through on the floor.

In the centre of the clearing was a mound of earth a few feet high, from which several high pitched screams were issuing. Anderson recognized it immediately as a lizard's nest. He was in the Tyrannosaur nesting site. At the base of the mound, there was an odd dark lump, which was stirring feebly.

Immediately preceding the nest was a massive body. It lay on its side, the torso rising and falling steadily with each breath. The head lay facing him, the eyes closed, the massive fangs protruding from the upper lip. It was an adult Tyrannosaur.

Anderson froze, and frowned in discomfort as the others came crashing out of the jungle loudly, panting and cursing.

They all did exact copies of what he had done; putting their hands over their brows, and studied the clearing. As soon as they saw the Tyrannosaur, their eyes widened, and they stood stock still.

Anderson was fully aware that they were standing in full view, within a Tyrannosaurus Rex nest. He studied the fallen Tyrannosaur for a moment. It didn't look injured anywhere, and he was sure that it wasn't asleep, after all; it had been roaring like crazy barely a minute before.

Now he couldn't hear the other Tyrannosaur at all.

He raised his gun, and cautiously took a step forwards. There was no reaction from the Tyrannosaur. He nodded to the others, and they all moved forwards.

One question kept occurring to him; where was the other Tyrannosaur?

It could come back any second, and they wouldn't even have a chance to defend themselves. Glancing to his side, he saw that Sarah was turning in wide circles, training the pistol at the jungle tree line.

Quickly, Anderson ran forward ahead of them, his footsteps barely making a sound, throwing up little clouds of red dust. He passed the fallen adult, keeping his eyes trained on it. It simply lay there, breathing steadily.

Looking at the dirt that covered the ground within the clearing, he could see a myriad of massive footprints, which were at least a foot in diameter. They ended in three splayed talons. They showed up as a lighter shade of red against the background dirt, where the ground had been compressed by the animal's immense weight. But as he continued to move forward he noticed that there were boot prints here too. Fresh ones; comparatively tiny to the Tyrannosaur prints surrounding them. From what he could see there seemed to be two distinct sets, heading forwards.

He turned his attention to the nest in the centre. He ran up the edge in a few bounding steps, sending showers of pebbles cascading down the sloping sides, and peered inside.

A few tiny Tyrannosaur infants looked up at him, hissing. They squealed, hopping up and down in agitation. They were very far from being the fearsome adult he had been before at the stream, in fact they had an almost cute-like quality too them. But underneath he could see the reminiscent inner qualities of their species; something cold and deadly.

He backed away quickly; he didn't want their squealing to make the Tyrannosaur wake up, or the other one come back.

He jumped down, and almost landed on the dark shape which he had seen earlier. He turned slowly, and looked at it carefully. It lay in the shadow of the nest, twitching. He crouched down, and poked it with the barrel of his rifle. It yelped, and twitched sharply.

It was an infant Tyrannosaur. Carefully, he picked it up, cradling it in his arms, and brought it into the light.

He saw that its left side was covered in blood. It leaked from a gash three inches across on its forehead. Its eyes were heavy and dull, staring into space.

"Anderson, put it down," said Tim, waving his hands from the edge of the clearing.

"It's hurt," he said quietly, walking back to them. He peered at the helpless infant in his arms. It looked completely harmless, and its large eyes made it seem truly infantile. He tripped suddenly, and fell flat on his face. The infant Tyrannosaur flew from his arms, and tumbled away.

Anderson grunted, and turned to see what he had tripped on. He was surprised to see a box-like device, which was reminiscent of a large pistol. He could see that there were many more human boot prints surrounding this device, as if somebody had stood in the spot around it for some time. The prints were overlaid, as if the person had been shifting on their feet. He stood up, and bent to pick it up the device.

"Don't touch that!" said an unfamiliar voice.

Anderson stood up sharply, and looked over at the tree line to his right. A dark figure stood in the underbrush, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat.

It was a man.

Rodriguez stared in astonishment as the man emerged into the clearing. His clothes were soaked through in perspiration, the left leg of his trousers were spattered with blood.

"Don't touch it," the man repeated, walking towards Anderson slowly.

Rodriguez could see that Anderson was eyeing his cautiously. The others looked just as shocked as he did, but Tim frowning, and looked angry.

"Why not?" said Anderson after a short silence.

"Because it's very hot. It'll scold your hand."

Rodriguez glanced quickly at the device on the ground, and saw very faintly that it was glowing with a fiery red tinge.

"Who are you?" Anderson was saying.

The man stumbled towards them, staggering a little. He looked exhausted, and dehydrated. His lips were cracked, and his eyes were dreary.

"Jack Edgar," he said finally.

"Are you part of a rescue party?"

The man paused, and suddenly looked uncomfortable. He just stood there for a moment, as if scrabbling for a story.

"He's from Biosyn," said Tim suddenly. His voice was calm and clear, yet Rodriguez could tell he was furious.

"Biosyn?" asked Guiterrez.

"A rival company," said Tim, "he works for a man named Lewis Dodgson."

Rodriguez had never heard of him, but by the reaction of Malcolm and Wu he could tell that they had. And it didn't look like it was a positive recognition.

Rodriguez glanced at the unconscious Tyrannosaur, watching its ribcage expand and retract slowly. He was extremely anxious that they were having this conversation now, in the middle of a Tyrannosaur nest.

"What are you doing here?" said Anderson.

The man looked afraid, and shifted.

"We can discuss this later," Malcolm said, wincing as he flexed his injured leg.

"No, we can discuss it now," said Tim coolly, observing the man with barely concealed distrust.

Rodriguez gave a quiet cry of outrage.

"Excuse me," he said in a fierce whisper, "but have you forgotten where we are?" He pointed to the unconscious Tyrannosaur on the floor. "Look at that thing! If that wakes up, we're dead."

"Even if it doesn't, Mommy can still crash the party," said the man called Edgar, smiling a little.

"What?" said Guiterrez, looking around suddenly.

"There were two," said Edgar. "Two adults."

"And why should we believe that?" said Wu, "there was only ever one adult Tyrannosaur on the island."

"Yes," said Tim, "but there was also a juvenile, wasn't there?"

Wu looked shocked for a moment. "How did you?-"

"My grandfather divulged more than I care to share with you, Henry," said Tim coldly. For an instant Rodriguez glimpsed something in Wu's eyes; something fearful.

Something was going on. Something Tim hadn't told them about. And something Wu hadn't expected anybody else to know of.

But Anderson broke the silence, apparently oblivious to the silent exchange between Tim and Wu. "He isn't lying. I heard two before. I know I did."

Rodriguez felt relieved at this revelation. "Good," he said, "now can we please get out of here?"

"Alright, come on guys," said Anderson, pointing to the tree line where they had come from, "Let's go."

Wu shook his head, and pointed at the opposite tree line. "We have to go that way. If we go back the way we came we'll just have to go around, and that'll take more time."

"Fine," said Anderson.

Rodriguez hesitantly walked forward with the others, approaching the adult Tyrannosaur on the floor. They skirted around the edge of the clearing like a pack of frightened puppies. As they began to walk past the head, Anderson began talking again. Glancing back, Rodriguez saw that Anderson hadn't moved, and was still facing Edgar. "How many of you are there?" he was saying.

"Two. Me and Dodgson."

"Well, where is he now?" said Anderson.

Edgar stared at him for a moment. "I don't know," he said finally.

Anderson fingered his rifle, and suddenly ran forward, grabbing Edgar by the collar. "_What do you mean you don't know?_" he said loudly.

"I don't know! The other one ran after him!"

There was a harsh cracking noise.

They all looked at the ground in unison, and saw that Anderson had stepped on the injured infant. Anderson lifted his foot from the infant's arm hastily, jumping back, his eyes wide.

But it was too late.

The infant have a howl of pain, and rolled over onto its back, squealing at the top of its voice.

Rodriguez saw the realization in Anderson's face. Frightened, Rodriguez turned to the adult Tyrannosaur lying on the floor. They were standing less than a foot away from the sleeping giant, in full view.

For a sickening moment, everybody stood stock still, staring at the Tyrannosaurus in front of them. Sweat ran down Rodriguez's back, and a horrific terror stole over him. He was sure that it was about to wake up; to kill them all.

The silence drew on for several more seconds, in which all they could hear was the continued screeching of the crushed infant.

But the adult didn't stir.

Everybody relaxed slightly, and the others began to ever so slowly edge towards the tree line. Rodriguez remained glued to the spot, glaring at the massive head, and the bloody fangs protruding from the top lip.

"Stupid," he muttered, and, taking a bounding step forward, kicked the adult in the abdomen.

The Tyrannosaur's eye snapped open, the pupil constricting. Everybody in the clearing froze once more. But it was too late. It had already seen them.

They were standing in the middle of an open clearing, with no cover, within biting distance of a live, adult Tyrannosaur.

The Tyrannosaur gave a long, low, guttural growl.

"Oh shit," said Rodriguez.

"Run!" shouted Anderson. "Run!"

An ear-splitting roar tore through the clearing, and everybody turned and ran, scattering towards the jungle. The air was full of frightened shouting, and Anderson could feel the air vibrate around him and the Tyrannosaur screamed in fury.

He was momentarily overcome by fear, which gripped his heart like an icy fist, and he lost all procedure, and sprinted into the jungle. His vision swayed erratically as he ran, and he couldn't see the others. They had all run in different directions. The world seemed to become dimmed, and surreal. Time slowed down. His mind sharpened as the primeval senses took over, and adrenaline surged through his system.

The ground grumbled and boomed as the Tyrannosaur got to its feet behind him, and another roar tore through the trees after him.

Anderson raced through the tree line, pumping his legs as fast as he could. He heard somebody shout in terror somewhere to his right. Ferns obscured his vision and slapped against his face as he threw himself forwards, panting hard. Roots snagged his feet, causing him to stumble.

The Tyrannosaur roared again, and the ground lifted and fell beneath him. The dinosaur was running, and the tonnage was causing a massive noise. But who was it running after?

He didn't know, and he didn't want to find out. All he knew was that he had to get as far away as possible.

And so he ran, his rifle bouncing on his shoulder. Sweat poured from his forehead, running down his face, stinging his eyes. The hot confines of the jungle made it hard to breath. His lungs seared, and his muscles burned. But he couldn't stop.

The ground was shaking harder than ever, and he was sure that the Tyrannosaur was running in his general direction. He guessed that they must have at least confused it by scattering, but it only needed to follow one of them. And it was him.

Perfect, he thought.

A flash of colour interrupted the monotonous greenery up ahead for an instant. Anderson charged forwards, spurred on by the continued build in the intensity of the booming in the ground.

Another roar blasted towards him; definitely closer. The flash of colour appeared again ahead of him, and this time he saw that it was a person. But from the glimpse he couldn't tell who.

He put on a spurt, trying desperately to catch up. One again, he caught a flash of colour in between the branches up ahead. He ducked a low hanging vine, and cast aside a fern, and was now immediately behind the person.

Another flash of colour. Now he saw that it was in fact two people, running side by side. The Tyrannosaur screamed, and he heard it crashing through the foliage behind him. It was now so close he could hear its rasping breaths.

"Come on, Ian!" he heard a frantic voice shout.

Sarah and Malcolm suddenly appeared ahead of him, running at full pelt through the trees.

Sarah had draped one of Malcolm's arms over her shoulder, and was almost dragging him forwards. Malcolm was grunting in pain with each step, and was hopping forwards, keeping his injured leg suspended above the ground.

Anderson sped up, and grabbed Ian's other arm.

"Keep going!" he shouted to them. Glancing at them, he saw that Ian's face was screwed up, his eyes reduced to slits, and his skin was an unhealthy green colour.

Hot breath now seemed to be seeping through the trees behind them, coming from the enraged Tyrannosaur which was now dangerously close.

The trees were thinning now, the ground clearing of roots. Their feet slipped on wet mud, ferns snagged their clothes. But they pushed on, Sarah muttering a continuous stream of encouragement to Malcolm. Sunlight streamed through the treetops high above, casting wild shadows all around them. Anderson's breaths came in ragged gasps, and he could feel his heart bouncing off the walls of his chest as they headed towards the light. He had no idea what to do.

All he could think of was to push Malcolm and Harding on ahead and use his rifle to distract the Tyrannosaur long enough for them to get away.

Sarah gasped as they burst into full sunlight. Anderson was forced to squint in the sudden brightness, and the skin pores on the back of his neck suddenly contracted in the harsh heat.

He glimpsed water; lots of water. Small waves lapped lazily against a sandy beach thirty feet in front of them. The grass immediately preceding the beach was trampled flat, and was imprinted with many animal tracks. A few birds glided gracefully over the surface of the water, riding the air currents.

For a moment Anderson thought that they had arrived at the ocean, but then he noticed that the water ended a few hundred meters after it began, bordered by another beach.

They had arrived at the lagoon.

A few herbivorous dinosaurs drank from the water on the opposite shore. Anderson couldn't name them, but he could see a few orange, ostrich looking ones that had stampeded earlier in the day. And there was also a herd of large, Elephant sized dinosaurs which had heads that resembled a duck's.

The Tyrannosaur came crashing towards them relentlessly, and gave a growl of frustration. They had mere seconds before it emerged from the jungle and found them standing there. Ian was panting, grasping his injured leg, clearly in extreme pain.

Sarah was looking around desperately, apparently as clueless as he was.

Anderson un-shouldered his rifle, and pushed Malcolm and Sarah into a thick bush to their left. He heard Malcolm give a cry of pain as his leg was forced to bend as he fell.

The gun felt pitifully small in his hands now. He felt certain that he wouldn't be able to take the Tyrannosaur down before it got him. He dived into the bush beside the other two just as the Tyrannosaur broke through the tree line, and stomped out into the light.

Sarah had her hand over Ian's mouth, as he was making pained whimpering sounds. Anderson could see that he was barely conscious; his eyes were rolling and lolling in their sockets. Their breathing seemed amplified in the tiny space. Anderson peered out through the leaves at the Tyrannosaur.

It was panting heavily, and its feet left three foot long gouges in the mud. It stopped halfway between the tree line and the beach, and cocked its head. It observed the herbivores on the opposite bank for a moment, which had looked up in alarm.

It then swerved its huge head left, then right, searching for them.

Anderson was sure that it wouldn't be able to see them.

But then he realized that it wasn't panting, it was sniffing. Its breaths were long, and were evidently being drawn in through the nasal passage.

It could smell them. It knew they were there; but it couldn't see them.

The Tyrannosaur took two steps forward, and roared in frustration, its skin glistening in the sun. It was terrifying; the air shuddered from the sound, it was unreal. The scream from a bygone era.

The duck-looking dinosaurs on the opposite bank honked. Anderson glanced at them, and saw that they were wheeling around in a circle, forming a line. They honked in apparent rage. He was sure that they were trying to drive the Tyrannosaur away.

He noticed that there were around twenty of them; roaring and honking.

The Tyrannosaur growled menacingly, and ran towards the beach. It stopped at the waterline, and raised its head. It opened its heavily muscled jaws, and gave a furious, almighty roar.

It hit Anderson's ears like an explosion, making his gasp and cover his ears with his hands. He was sure that it would carry across the opposite bank.

Sure enough, the dinosaurs on the opposite bank jumped as if scolded. The smaller ostrich-like dinosaurs squeaked and ran into the trees on the other side of the lagoon.

The duck-like dinosaurs recoiled, and cowered. Slowly, they milled around, and retreated towards the jungle.

With a snarl, the Tyrannosaur turned away from them, and gave the shore one last sweeping look.

Then it turned away, and ran back into the jungle, back towards the nest.

Anderson sat in silence for well over a minute, waiting as the booming footsteps receded into nothingness. Finally, feeling safe, he emerged shakily from the bush, and stepped out onto the grass. He walked along the tracks of the Tyrannosaur, observing the great gouges it had left in the mud. The sheer scale of the dinosaurs had only just started to sink in. They were immense, vicious, and quick.

They had come on this trip dangerously ill-equipped. His gun seemed almost useless when faced with the sheer size of some of these animals.

He turned to see Sarah drag Ian clear of the bush, a worried look on her face. Ian was in a sorry state indeed. He was wheezing, and was by now clearly unconscious.

Sarah rolled up the cuff of his trouser leg, and inspected the wound on his leg. Removing the bandage, she revealed the gash. It looked infected, tinged green. She sniffed it, and wrinkled her nose.

"How is he?" called Anderson, now standing at the shore of the beach. The sand slid around his feet as he stepped forward. The opposite shore was now deficit of dinosaurs. He now felt strangely alone in the vast open space.

"Not good," said Sarah, pulling out a bottle of water and washing Ian's wound gingerly.

Anderson surveyed the landscape, looking for the others. He now saw that the lagoon was far wider than it was long. Their target was north of here, and it would take at them hours to go around it. Now that he was here he was sure that they would have to cross it.

But not today; the sun was now starting to set. They now had to find somewhere safe to hold up for the night. But he had no idea where that could be. For now, they had to find the others.

"_Hello?!_" he shouted into the jungle. He heard his voice echo in the trees.

Sarah looked uneasy at him shouting so loudly so soon after the Tyrannosaur vacating the area. But there was no other way. He had to find them.

"_Tim?! Guiterrez?!" _he shouted, skirting the edge of the jungle.

Sarah turned away, apparently resigned to the fact that he would continue to shout the other's names.

After several minutes of unsuccessful attempts to alert everybody else to their presence, and panting heavily, Anderson sat down beside Sarah.

"Wherever they are, they aren't around here," he said, gulping from the water bottle that she handed to him.

Malcolm muttered for a moment, shifting position. "Life…chaos in action," he whispered, "…I told him…an accident waiting to happen."

Then he fell silent, resuming his steady deep breathing.

"What's he saying?" asked Anderson distantly.

Sarah was frowning. "I rarely understand him when he's like this," she said quietly as she rolled the leg of his trousers back down.

"What do you mean?"

Sarah smiled faintly. "This isn't the first time."

Anderson raised his eyebrows for a moment, and then shrugged. "Well, for now, it's just us."

Sarah nodded. "We're alone."


	27. Chapter 25: Chase

Chapter 25

**Chase**

Dodgson was terrified. He sprinted through the jungle, tearing at the underbrush in front of him, casting aside ferns and vines. Sunlight streamed through the tree canopy high above him, creating intermittent shafts of golden light. He ducked low branches, and tripped on the dense rooting on the ground. He was panting hard, and sweat streamed down his face as he ran.

Behind him he could hear the pursuing Tyrannosaur, which had chased him ever since he had escaped from the nest. Whatever had happened to his gun, he didn't know. The researchers had promised that it would work at least as long as he would be on the island. He had no idea what had happened to Edgar, he must have run in another direction. In which case, Dodgson wasn't going to wait for him. He would be stuck here. Not that Dodgson cared. The bastard had been as unreliable as Nedry had ever been, always acting like a coward, unwilling to take risks.

All he could think of now was getting back to the car. Once he was inside, he would be safe. He had made sure of that. He had ensured that the engineers can built it properly. Once he was inside, he could get back to the ship, and they could go home. They still had the Gallimimus anyway.

The ground shook with each of the Tyrannosaur's steps, reverberating through the enclosed space. The trees loomed out of nowhere, and he swerved and dived erratically. Dodgson was confused and dazed, his feet splattered in the mud as he dashed through the trees. The jungle was darker than before; the day was wearing on. He guessed that up above the sun was beginning to set. And there was no way in hell that he was going to end up being on this island during the nighttime. It was spooky enough during the day.

He lost all track of time; he just ran. All he could think of was running. The Tyrannosaur roared from somewhere behind him, and under the canopy the sound was amplified. It sounded dangerously close, and he put on a spurt, leaping over a fallen log and splashing down in a muddy puddle.

His lungs ached with the effort of dragging in the warm air, and bits of dirt and leaves clung to the sweat on his skin. He could feel his body overheating in the tropical climate. His head pulsed with pain, and he became dazed, his vision swaying, becoming unfocused.

The Tyrannosaur roared again, and he gave a jump of fright, and sprinted for all he was worth through the trees. He was sure that he was getting near the road; they hadn't had to travel that far in before to reach the nest. But the trees were far too thick to see clearly, and there were so signs of the jungle thinning.

The Tyrannosaur was gaining on him, he could tell, by the increased intensity with which the ground shook. The ferns and bushes were now shuddering with each massive foot fall, and the heavily leaves branches swayed from side to side.

With a gasp of relief he flew from the jungle and into the daylight, the confines of the trees opening up suddenly and giving way to the main road.

On the other side of the road, he saw the tattered remains of the electric fence, gleaming in the yellow glow of the late afternoon sun. The wires hung loose, drooping down towards the floor, the concrete bases falling apart. He had a fleeting wonder of how those spindly fences had ever held back the monster that pursued him.

The tarmac beneath his feet felt reassuringly firm as he turned on the spot wildly and searched for the car.

Squinting in the sudden brightness, he spotted it parked neatly at the side of the road twenty feet away to his left. The black paint gave off a high shine in the dying light, and he was immensely happy to see it, safe.

He ran towards it, his limbs feeling like rubber after his dash through the jungle. The colder air hit his lungs, and he clutched a stitch in his side as he reached the driver's door of the car, panting.

The Tyrannosaur roared in the jungle to the right, and the trees shook violently, causing a flock of birds to explode upwards from the canopy.

Behind the car, the trailer rocked on its hinges as the infant Gallimimus threw itself against the side, trying to escape. It squealed in fright, and Dodgson could hear it scratching desperately at the metal inside its cage.

In a panicked frenzy Dodgson threw his hands into his pocket and dug around for his keys. His fingers closed around the cold metal, and he wrenched them from his trousers, and with a glance to the right saw the trees shaking even more violently.

The Tyrannosaur gave a growl of fury, and there was the sound of splintering wood.

_It must be snagged or tangles in the trees_, he thought.

He tried to insert the key into the lock in the car door, but his hand shook so much that the key merely vibrated against the metal around the keyhole. With a whimper of panic he used his other hand to steady himself, and rammed the key into the lock.

He pulled the door open and threw himself inside. Sitting up and casting aside the laptop that was leaning against the dashboard, he put the key into the ignition, and he slammed the door shut behind him.

He twisted the key with a flourish, and the engine grumbled to life just as the Tyrannosaur burst from the jungle sixty feet in front of him, covered in vines and detritus. It looked gave a snarl, and turned its head, looking for him. As soon as its eyes came into contact with him, it turned its whole body to face the Jeep and roared, baring its massive fangs. Slowly, it hissed, and then, bending its head low, charged.

Dodgson threw the Jeep into reverse, and stamped on the accelerator.

The wheels spun on the broken ground, and smoke billowed copiously from the tires. Dust flew up into the air as they bit, and the engine roared, and the Jeep flew backwards.

The Tyrannosaur rushed forwards with surprising speed, no longer restrained by the dense jungle. The Jeep shuddered with each step, and the trailer bounced around behind him, the screams of the Gallimimus muffled by the thick windows of the Jeep.

The reverse gear of the Jeep was desperately slow and the Tyrannosaur advanced easily. Dodgson's eyes were wide as he kept his foot down as far as it would go, watching as the massive animal ran towards him.

He span the wheel in his hands, and the Jeep swerved off to the side. Skidding on the tarmac, Dodgson watched as the Tyrannosaur disappeared from the windshield and appeared in the passenger windows as the world swirled around him.

There was a startling impact, slamming Dodgson sideways in his seat. Panting, he sat up quickly, expecting to see the Tyrannosaur looking down at him.

But it was still well over thirty feet away. Looking around, Dodgson realized that he had forgotten about the trailer, which had swung around and slammed into the side of the Jeep. He could faintly hear the infant Gallimimus screaming inside. Checking quickly, he saw that the Jeep was almost completely undamaged.

He slammed the Jeep into first gear, and gunned the engine. It shot forward, and he span the wheel rapidly.

The Tyrannosaur roared in fury at the sight of him escaping, and he saw in the rear-view mirror that it had bared its fangs once more.

There was a metallic squeal, and then a crunch. Looking back, he saw that the trailer had broken loose of its fixings. As he changed gear he watched it tumbled backwards, towards the Tyrannosaur, and slowly fell over, onto its side.

He drove hard, hoping that the trailer would provide a distraction. Perhaps the Tyrannosaur would pause to inspect it, and he would be able to get away.

He watched through the mirror as the Tyrannosaur ran full pelt towards the trailer, covering ten feet with each stride. Without a fault in its step, it lowered its head, and bit down on the trailer. Its jaws encompassed the entire width of it, the teeth penetrating both sides. It lifted the trailer into the air as if it were a paper bag, and ran with it. Twisting its head, it threw the whole thing, releasing it from its jaws. The trailer soared through the air, and he heard a muffled crash as it disappeared into the tree tops of the jungle.

Dodgson watched in horror at the power and fluidity with which the Tyrannosaur dispatched the trailer. He wasn't so sure of how the Jeep would fare against the Tyrannosaur anymore.

He changed into third gear, his fingers slipping on the gearshift. Sweat ran down the ridge of his nose, dripping from his chin. The Tyrannosaur rushed towards him, its jaws wide.

Dodgson was amazed at how fast it could run out in the open. He wasn't accustomed to seeing large animals moving so fast. It didn't seem possible, especially for a lizard.

The engine whined from the effort of being pushed so hard, and he watched the speedometer anxiously as the needle slowly crawled from left to right.

The Jeep jumped on the uneven ground, and he gripped the wheel grimly as the wheel tried to spin out of control. Potholes loomed out of nowhere. The late afternoon light was causing shadows that messed his perception. Mere grooves in the road looked like large holes, and chassis breaking gouges didn't show up until the last second.

He glanced in the mirror once more, and gave a yell at the sight of a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth met his eyes. The Tyrannosaur was right behind him, and the Jeep was now leaping off the ground with every step.

Even through the thick metal and glass of the Jeep he could hear the deep rasping breaths as air was dragged into the massive chest cavity of the animal. Glancing once more into the mirror he saw the deep golden eye of the Tyrannosaur. He was reminded of a lion, the relentless predator instinct. But the Tyrannosaur eye was somehow more sinister, and the vertical slit-like pupils conveyed a distinct air of reptilian menace.

Dodgson gave a grunt, and shifted the Jeep into forth. But in the split second that it took the car to change gears, it ceased acceleration, and the Tyrannosaur pulled level with the Jeep, on the driver's side.

He looked out of his window in horror at the heavily muscled thighs of the Rex, and the heaving chest, glistening in the sun.

He watched the head bend down into view, and swung sideways towards him.

He gave a yell of fright, and spun the wheel, but the Tyrannosaur simply sidestepped to keep up with him. The massive skull impacted the side of the Jeep near the rear of the chassis, and Dodgson's head slammed against the ceiling as the suspension squealed. The Jeep momentarily lifted off the ground, before the Tyrannosaur lifted its head and it came crashing back down again.

The Rex gave a deafening scream of rage, and Dodgson shivered as the sound cut through him like a hot knife through butter.

The Tyrannosaur ducked its head again, and this time Dodgson couldn't think of anything else to do, and so simply braced himself.

The Jeep gave a metallic _bang_, and the boot space behind him caved in, the metal creaking as it bent inwards. Boxes and supplies rummaged around. The Jeep lifted onto two wheels, and the Rex growled. Dodgson span the wheel doggedly, and the Jeep shot along, balanced on two wheels for a few seconds. Then the Rex lifted its head, and growled again. The Jeep swayed precariously, and then fell back down onto four wheels.

Dodgson sighed, breathing spasmodically. He jerked his head to look out of the window, but was surprised that all he saw was the dull grey of the fence, and the greenery of the jungle behind it. The Tyrannosaur wasn't there. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, he saw that it had dropped back, and was slowing down.

He frowned.

Why would it stop chasing him now? Perhaps it only wanted to drive him off to a safe distance. Or maybe it didn't want to leave the nest unattended for too long.

But as he turned to look out of the windshield he saw why it had slowed. The road seemed to end a hundred feet ahead, and the fence cut across the road. But as he continued onwards, he saw that it was a sharp corner.

He splashed through a puddle, and realized that he was going far too fast to make the corner. But he couldn't slow down; if he stopped now he was dead. The way the boot had crushed inwards proved that if the Tyrannosaur got a firm grip on the car he wouldn't stand a chance.

He'd have to brake at the last moment and hope for the best. He glanced in the rear-view mirror once more, and gasped. The Rex was gone. It hadn't simply slowed down, or stopped. It had simply disappeared. He sincerely hoped that it had gone back to the nest. But there was no way in hell that he was going to stop to find out.

The corner rushed up, and with an aggressive grunt Dodgson stood on the brakes, and span the wheel as far as it would go.

The Wrangler made a loud screech on the old tarmac, and bits of gravel flew into the air as it slid sideways along the road. The Jeep flew blasted around the corner, and the fence on the other side of the road loomed forwards.

Dodgson took his foot off the brakes, and slammed his foot back on the accelerator. The Jeep slowly ceased its sideways movement, and shot off again, forward along the stretch of road.

Dodgson guessed that he had a few miles to go before he could find the boat again. And then there was the question of finding his way through the patch of jungle back to the dock. He would have to ditch the Jeep and run the rest of the way.

This piece of road was in a graver state, and the tarmac was crumbling away, patches of red earth showing through in gaping holes. The Jeep bounced along, and the suspension squeaked as Dodgson spun the wheel back and forth, dodging in between the largest of the holes. He sped forwards, pushing the engine as hard as he could.

Suddenly the Rex erupted from the jungle ahead of him, and gave a massive shriek of anger. It had cut through the jungle, to cut him off. It turned towards him, standing in the middle of the road, blocking his path. It bent low, and roared at him menacingly.

"Holy fuck!" Dodgson shouted.

He had no idea what to do; his mind was blank. There was nothing for it. He gunned the engine, and sped towards it, aiming for the space in between its legs. It looked large enough for him to fit through.

The Tyrannosaur roared again, and took a bounding step forwards.

Dodgson gave a long yell, and zoomed in between its legs, and underneath it. Dodgson glimpsed the eyes of the Rex grow wide in fury for an instant before he passed under the Rex. The sunlight was blocked out, and he came so close to the Rex that he could have touched it, and saw the pebbly texture of the upper leg. There was a loud scraping sound that echoed inside the cab of the Wrangler as the passenger side of the Jeep brushed against the powerful hind limb of the Rex, which gave a howl of pain.

For a single wonderful moment he thought he had made it as the shadow passed and the Rex gave way to the open road once more, before the thick tail of the dinosaur came swinging down from above. It struck the passenger side of the windshield with astonishing force, and the strengthened glass splintered into a spider-web pattern. The metal framing of the Wrangler buckled inwards, and the roof came down several inches.

"Jesus Christ!" yelped Dodgson, and gunned the engine as the Rex lifted its tail and brought it down again on the rear of the Wrangler. There was the sound of breaking glass, and Dodgson glanced back, and saw that the back of the Jeep was now also dented inwards, and a small chunk of the back window had come away.

Through the back window he saw the Rex whirl around to face him, and leaned forwards, lunging at him, its jaws snapping closed where the Jeep had been a second before.

Dodgson swung around to face forwards, and once again concentrated on swerving in between the potholes. If he broke the axle now, he was done for.

This proved to be desperately ineffective after a few seconds, as he still shuddered up and down, and the Tyrannosaur gained on him easily, not having to follow his zigzagging route.

The Rex was now within biting distance again, and Dodgson could see its chest heaving in and out, the ribcage rising and falling rapidly.

"Screw this," Dodgson muttered, and spun the wheel to face straight; he was going to have to ride over the potholes and hope for the best. He wasn't going to get away if he kept this up.

Just as the Wrangler straightened out, the Rex rushed forwards, and clamped its teeth into the spare tire that hung from the back of the Jeep. It stopped in its tracks, keeping its jaws clamped tightly on the wheel. Dodgson felt a sudden jolt as the car was pulled to a stop.

The Rex lifted its head upwards, taking the tire with it. The back of the Jeep was lifted into the air, the wheels spinning uselessly in the air. The engine whined as he gunned the accelerator, but nothing happened.

The back wheel gave a high whine as the Rex's teeth penetrated the thick rubber, and gas whistled out from the punctures.

The Tyrannosaur gave a growl, and Dodgson whimpered in fright. The Rex gave a great shake of its head, and with a crunch the rear tire broke free.

The back of the Jeep fell back to the floor, and Dodgson slammed on the accelerator again. The wheels spun, creating a cloud of dirt around him, and then he shot forwards.

He shot forward, and with a jerk of his hand clicked on the GPS display on the dashboard beside him. The screen gave an electronic beep, and slowly faded to life.

Glancing back through the rear window, he saw the Rex growling and shaking the tire in its mouth like a bulldog would play with a bone. Then it noticed him speeding away, and with a shake of its snout threw the spare tire into the jungle.

The ground began to shake again as Dodgson glanced at the GPS display screen.

The screen showed him moving slowly north, along the main road. The smaller dirt track back to the boat was just up ahead, perhaps a quarter of a mile.

He gunned the engine, and shot forwards. Behind him the Tyrannosaur roared in anger, and he noticed that this time he was gaining ground. If he could get far enough ahead, then perhaps he could ditch the Jeep and get into the jungle before the Rex caught up with him.

The turn-off to the dirt track appeared ahead, and Dodgson span the wheel, turning the Jeep. The wheel screeched on the tarmac, and he flew under the canopy of the trees.

He squinted in the sudden darkness, and he rubbed sweat out of his eyes impatiently as he soared across the dirt.

He glanced back, and saw that the Tyrannosaur had disappeared again.

But he wasn't fooled this time; it had probably cut through the jungle again. He guessed he had mere seconds before it reappeared. And he knew that he didn't stand a chance of outrunning it on the dirt road; the Tyrannosaur was far better suited for off-road. His only chance was to get out now and escape before it found him again.

He hit the brakes, and as the Jeep screeched to a stop he kicked the door open. He stood up, panting, his legs burning, and was just about to dash for the trees when a low growl ran through the air.

Dodgson froze, and his bottom lip quivered as he slowly, ever so slowly looked over his shoulder.

The Tyrannosaur stood behind him, half hidden in the foliage. The jaws worked slowly, the massive fangs moving silently. The reddish skin of the Rex glistened with moisture, and the heavy torso moved in and out as the Rex panted. It was staring right at him, the cold pair of eyes seemingly penetrating his very soul.

Dodgson gave a cry of panic and made to run.

With a roar the Rex rushed forwards, straight at him. The ground shook violently, and the jungle around him shook. Dodgson screamed, and his heart gave a jolt.

He was about to die, he was sure of it.

But as the Rex came forward it clipped its right leg on the grate of the Jeep. With a roar, the Rex spun around, off-balance, and began to topple. It pulled its other leg underneath it swiftly, and righted itself as it completed the turn.

Dodgson was just about to use this moment's distraction to sprint into the jungle when the Rex's tail soared from the sky and struck him in the chest.

He felt a searing pain, and then he was flying. He felt wind flap against his clothes, rush through his hair. Branches snagged at his face and his hands, ripping his shirt. He had a sense of being high up, and tried to look around when his head crashed into the trunk of a thick tree. And now he was falling. And as everything grew dark Dodgson stared lazily at the ground as a heavy branch rushed upwards to strike him in the face.


	28. Chapter 26: Lagoon

Chapter 26

**Lagoon**

Guiterrez emerged from the jungle, breathing heavily. His rucksack felt heavy, and his hands brushed against the last of the ferns before he stepped out into the open. A light breeze danced over his skin, and he took a deep breath after the stuffy confines of the trees. He narrowed his eyes in the harsh light, and stared out over the expansive space which he had just entered.

He appeared to be on the western shore of a large body of water. Looking around, he saw that there was a field of grass around him, which extended to within twenty feet of the waterline, where it gave way to crisp, golden sand.

The jungle sounds seemed more distant now, without the reverberating quality of jungle. The insects and buzzing seemed more pleasant, an accompanying jingle to the wind.

He was also pleased to see that there were no dinosaurs in this area either. Looking more carefully, he saw that the water extended only for a mile or so, before land began again. He realized that he had arrived at the lagoon.

But he was also painfully aware of the fact that he had no idea where anybody else was. As soon as he had started to run from the Rex in the nest, he had lost sight of them. All he could remember was turning tail and running as fast as he could, for his life. He had run until his lungs had seared, threatening to burst, and he had collapsed onto the floor.

He had lay there for many minutes, trying to catch his breath, listening to the distant roars of the Rex. But after he had managed to sit up, and drag himself to his feet, he had panicked. He had lost the others, and didn't have any idea what to do next.

And so he had struggled on through the dense vegetation, not daring to call out in fear of attracting the attention of the Tyrannosaurs.

Now, he was relieved to finally be out in the open. But he didn't want to venture out down to the beach; if something arrived then he'd have nowhere to run to.

He decided that his best bet was to wait at the tree line and see if anybody else showed up. Maybe then they could figure out how to cross the lagoon and get over to the control centre. The sooner they could get off this island; the better.

Guiterrez walked briskly along the tree line, looking for a good spot. He found it after two minutes of looking; a large tree with a thick trunk, with a thick layer of ferns lying at the base. The branches would hang over the top of him, and it would provide good cover from being seen, yet would allow him to look out over the lagoon.

He pulled up a few of the ferns, creating a space for him to sit, and lay them over the empty space, making a soft bedding to keep him off the wet mud.

He sat down with a sigh, and dragged his rucksack off his back, and plopped it down beside him. He crossed his legs underneath him, and stared out at the shimmering surface of the water, idly listening to the jungle sounds behind him.

It was starting to get late, and the sun was reflected in the lagoon surface, casting a golden glow over the scene before him.

He enjoyed the relative cool of the late afternoon, and rubbed his aching legs. He felt tired and battered after his dash through the jungle away from the Tyrannosaur nest, and now that the adrenaline had run its course he found his eyes were heavy. He had never been so exhausted, hungry and thirsty at the same time. But he could go to sleep, not here anyway. And all he had to eat were a few energy bars, and in the tropical heat they were probably sticky and generally unappetizing.

But the thirst he could deal with. He bent over, unzipped his rucksack, and rummaged around for his water bottle. Pulling it out, he took a long swallow, feeling the cold liquid slide down his throat, easing his thirst.

His stomach shuddered as the water touched it, and he felt a strange pang of emptiness; he needed food. They hadn't eaten properly since at the airport in San Jose, which itself had been unsatisfactorily unfulfilling.

A sudden chirp interrupted his train of thought. He tensed, and put his water bottle down as slowly as possible. Slowly, he clambered into a crouching position, ready to break into a run if necessary. The jungle sounds showed no signs of ceasing, carrying on like normal. Guiterrez relaxed a little as the chirping sound came again. He didn't think that the sound was coming from anything threatening at all. In fact, it almost sounded like—

The branches in the tree above him shook momentarily, and then a beaked face popped into view. Guiterrez smiled up at the little Microceratops, which chirped happily, and ran along the branch.

"Following me now?" he asked the small dinosaur, relaxing back into his sitting position. He stuffed his water bottle back into his bag, and couldn't help sustaining his smirk. It was comforting to have the animal around, both for the company and the fact that it would almost certainly become agitated if a predator came near.

The dinosaur hopped from branch to branch above him, causing what Guiterrez would have called a considerable amount of noise. Leaves and detritus rained down on him, and he looked up again, frowning.

A second Microceratops emerged from the foliage, and chirped at the first, and then looked down at Guiterrez. It cocked its head for a second, and then hopped around like the first.

Martin watched as a whole group of the animals appeared from the jungle, and played joyously in the treetops.

"Hey, guys," he said with a small smile, "want some candy? I hope you're hungry. I find these things to be a refreshing substitute for…food."

He bent down into his rucksack again, and rooted around, looking for the glint of a candy bar wrapper. His water bottle, some rope and clothes obstructed his view.

He frowned, and dug his hand in blindly, grabbing for a slippery plastic surface. His hands felt soft fabric, coarse nylon, and then a cold metallic surface. His eyes widened as he realized what it was, and he closed his hand around it, ripping it from the rucksack with a flourish.

It was his radio. He had forgotten all about it.

Hastily, excitement flooding through him, he twisted the power dial. A strong red bubble light blinked to life, glowing strongly. Static hissed from the speaker grate at the top, filling the small space in which he sat.

The Microceratops above chattered excitedly, and Guiterrez sensed them coming lower to inspect the strange sounds.

Guiterrez pressed the talk button, and said "Hello? Is anybody there? Hello?"

A hiss of answering feedback flooded the area from the radio, and he grimaced in annoyance. The Microceratops squeaked, and Guiterrez flinched instinctively as one of them swung down beside him, upside down, hanging from a low branch. It observed him with a childish interest, and cocked its head.

Guiterrez ignored it, and continued trying. "Hello? Goddamn it, Hello?"

There was a harsh screech, and then there was a sharp crackle, and someone's voice flooded his ears. "Anderson here, who's there?"

Guiterrez's shoulders sagged with relief, and he pressed the talk button again. "It's Martin. Listen, I'm at the lagoon, where are you?"

There was a brief pause, and then Anderson's voice came again. "You are? So are we."

"Who's 'We'?" Guiterrez asked.

So Anderson wasn't alone. Perhaps everybody had survived.

"Me, Sarah and Ian." There was another pause. "Oh, and that guy, Edgar."

Guiterrez paused. "Edgar? That guy from the Rex nest?"

The sound of ruffling clothes drifted over the radio, but it could have been Anderson's gun. "Yes, him," said Anderson finally. He didn't sound happy.

Guiterrez peered out of his hiding place, and looked along the length of the stretch of shoreline. "I don't see you," he said into the radio.

The sound of Anderson's breaths and footsteps briefly floated over, and then he said, "I don't see you either. Where exactly are you?"

"I'm not sure…on the western side."

"Ah, yeah, we're nearer the eastern side. Come down here and we'll search for the others."

"Alright, I'm on my way," said Guiterrez as the Microceratops squawked sharply.

There was another pause. "What was that?" asked Anderson.

"The Microceratops that we saw around the geothermal plant."

"…Those beaky things? They followed you?"

"Must have…I guess they like me."

"Well, lose them, and get over here. And walk along the periphery of the jungle, not out in the open. If the Rex comes back you'll have nowhere to go."

Guiterrez stood up, and shouldered his rucksack. He took off at a brisk pace, walking through the dense shrubbery that lined where the jungle began. The Microceratops chattered loudly at his sudden movement, and followed him above, clattering around in the canopy.

Five minutes later he walked out into the open, and smiled at the sight of Anderson coming up to join him. The Microceratops remained in the jungle, and seemed reluctant to show themselves at the sight of another person, but they could still hear their faint playful squawks mixing in with the insects and frogs. Guiterrez and Anderson fell into step with each other, and began walking a little further up the shoreline, towards a slight bend in the jungle perimeter.

"I thought I told you to lose those things," said Anderson, glancing over his shoulder.

"Care to suggest how I would do that?"

"Never mind. Any problems?"

"Nope, didn't see anything on the way over here…Well, except for those guys," Guiterrez said, motioning to the shaking branches behind them.

They came around a corner, and Guiterrez saw Sarah crouched a small distance away, over Malcolm, who lay on the ground, apparently sleeping. The man, Edgar, stood to the side of them, looking uncomfortable at the sight of Anderson, and the way he fingered his rifle.

"Martin, glad you're okay," said Sarah absently, peering over Malcolm, who was slowly turning his head from side to side.

"Thanks," said Guiterrez, "but what's up with him?" Martin looked at Malcolm again. He noticed that he didn't look good at all. His skin had a slightly grayish tone, and his hair was matter with sweat. He was also shivering slightly.

"I don't know", said Sarah, "but I think his bite wound from the Dilophosaur attack has gotten infected."

Guiterrez approached her, and crouched down beside Malcolm, and looked at his leg. Sarah had put a fresh dressing on the wound, and from what he could see she had used water from the lagoon to clean it as best she could.

Carefully, he removed the bandage, and inspected the cut. He could see the puncture marks where the teeth of the Dilophosaur had broken the skin. The bright red flesh beneath bore no sign of discoloration. He prodded the area around the wound lightly, causing Malcolm to moan sharply, and muttered something incoherent. Everything seemed to be normal; he couldn't see any signs of infection. Of course, merely examining him like this wouldn't make anything definitive whatsoever, but his guess was that it was something else.

"Doesn't look infected," he said, sitting back on the grass.

"You sure?" said Anderson, not taking his eyes off Edgar, who remained in his rigid pose.

"No. But there aren't any obvious signs. There's usually pus, swelling, or a change in skin tone around the wound. But I can't see any of that."

"…Then what?" asked Sarah.

"I can't be sure, it might just be fatigue. He's lost a lot of blood, and he's been through a lot in the last few hours."

Sarah was staring at him. "But that's not what you think it is, is it?" she said.

Guiterrez sighed, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "It seems just like a virus. But this has come on very quickly. How long has he been like this?"

"Since just after the Rex chased us."

"And how was he before that?"

"Nothing like this, but he wasn't right."

Guiterrez shrugged, looking at the water of the lagoon.

Malcolm began muttering again. Guiterrez was able to distinguish a few words from the whispered babble, such as 'Too many mistakes, John', and 'All new ones'.

They listened to him absently until his mutters subsided to deep breathing, and Guiterrez inspected Edgar, who remained standing at the periphery of the group.

"What do you do at that company then?" he said. "That BioSyn."

Edgar stared at him for a second, and then said, "I'm Dr. Dodgson's personal assistant. I usually aid in his research projects, organize funds and such."

Guiterrez smirked. "Bet you weren't counting on this."

Edgar snorted. "No shit."

Anderson brought out his radio, and clicked it on for a second, listening to the static.

"Have you contacted the others yet?" asked Guiterrez.

"We've been trying for the better part of twenty minutes," said Anderson, flicking through all the channels and listening intently to the hissing noises. "All we got was you."

"So they're either in trouble, or haven't remembered that they have their radios yet."

Guiterrez suddenly snapped his head sideways at the sight of movement, coming from the other side of the lagoon. The others turned to follow his eyes, and paused.

Three adult Stegosaurus had just broke cover of the trees on the opposite shore, and slowly swaggered down onto the beach. Their leathery skin reflected the golden sunlight as they dipped their tiny heads to drink.

Their dangerous looking spiked tails raised into the air, swaying from side to side rhythmically, the meter long spikes glittering in the dying light.

"So, we just wait for them?" asked Guiterrez as he watched the graceful herbivores drink peacefully.

"Yes," said Anderson, pocketing the radio. "We wait."


	29. Chapter 27: Lost

Chapter 27

**Lost**

"Now what do we do?" asked Rodriguez, slumping against the side of a large tree, mud dripping from his clothes and his face splattered with dried blood.

"I don't know," muttered Tim, clutching a stitch in his side.

"What...what happened to the others?" said Wu, standing a few feet away, his face blank.

"I don't know," repeated Tim, sinking to the floor.

"Damn it, Murphy, you said you had this planned. What do we do now?" grated Rodriguez, digging weakly in his rucksack for his water bottle.

"Look, I don't know. I don't know!" said Tim.

They had run since they had left the Rex nest. They hadn't stopped, not daring to look over their shoulders. Rodriguez hadn't seen anybody else as he ran, and was sure that they must have escaped in another direction. Now the three of them had finally paused as they noticed that they could no longer hear the Tyrannosaurs. They stood in an area of thickly placed trees, with ferns dotted several feet apart. Dim, yellowish sunlight barely punctured the canopy, but it was now far weaker than earlier. It was getting late.

"Well, we ran for around ten minutes. I estimate that we could make around ten miles per hour in the jungle."

"Which means?" asked Rodriguez, gulping water from his bottle thirstily.

"We've could have covered around one and a half miles in that time, maybe. But, in which direction, we don't know."

"Don't you have the compass?" said Tim, rubbing his forehead.

Rodriguez watched as Wu nodded vaguely and pulled his pack from his shoulder, and began rummaging around. A few seconds later he pulled out the small battered compass, and stared at it intently for a few moments.

"Well?" said Tim eventually.

"Well, you have to remember that the island's mountains are magnetic to some degree, so the compass is being thrown off."

"Yes," said Rodriguez, "but not by much, right?"

"…Right."

"Well then," said Rodriguez, taking another drink, pointing in the direction from which they had come, "which way did we come from?"

"Err…we came from the south-west, which means that we were heading North-east."

"And where were we supposed to be heading?" asked Rodriguez. His head was pounding, and the air in the hot confines of the jungle was suffocating.

"West," said Tim. "The lagoon was west. We've gone over a mile in the wrong direction."

"Which puts us in the middle of nowhere," said Wu. "There's nothing around here. Just jungle. For miles. We're lost."

Rodriguez groaned, and closed his eyes for a moment, and took a few deep breaths, trying to soothe the pain in his head. After a minute or so he said, "Everybody knew that we were heading towards the lagoon. Maybe they'll all head there, so we can regroup."

"Well," said Rodriguez, "why don't we check the radios? See if anybody is listening?"

Tim nodded, and pulled out his radio from his pack, and switched it on. Static flooded Rodriguez's ears, and his head throbbed at the unpleasant hiss.

"Anybody out there? Anderson? Harding?" said Tim clearly, his finger on the 'talk' button.

There was a moments silence filled only by a harsh crackle of feedback, before there was a beep, and then Guiterrez's voice filled the jungle.

"Tim?"

"Yeah, Martin, it's me."

"Thank god. Are you okay?"

Tim looked at Wu and Rodriguez for a moment, who both nodded.

"Yeah, we're fine," said Tim.

"We? Who's with you?"

"I've got Rodriguez and Wu with me. We're all fine."

"That's everybody accounted for then," said Guiterrez. He sounded like he was talking more to another person beside him rather than to Tim over the radio.

"What? Who's with _you_?" said Tim.

"Everybody else," said Guiterrez. "Anderson, Sarah, Malcolm. Oh, and that guy we met in the Rex nest; Edgar."

Tim frowned suddenly. His hand shook slightly, and his knuckles became white as he gripped the radio. Rodriguez looked at him inquisitively. He didn't understand Tim's agitation; the man had told them that he didn't care for Dodgson anymore back in the nest.

"Get rid of him," snarled Tim.

"What?" said Guiterrez.

"Ditch him. We can't trust him."

"He's okay, he's no danger to any of us. Anyway, I, Anderson and Sarah have guns. He has nothing."

Tim still looked troubled. "Just make sure you watch him. Are you all alright?"

"For now, yeah, we're all fine…except for Malcolm; he's a little mucked up."

Tim gave a small jerk at these words, and his face seemed to slacken. Rodriguez narrowed his eyes; Murphy seemed to be suddenly apprehensive, even nervous perhaps. "Mucked up, you say?" said Tim, with a voice quite unlike his own. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well," said Guiterrez, oblivious to Tim's discomfort, "he's out cold. He's pale, sweaty and delirious."

Tim licked his lips, and his eyes were fixated on the radio. "I see…do you know what's wrong with him? After all, aren't you qualified to diagnose diseases and such?"

"I am, with lizard related illnesses…if that means anything on this island I'll never know. But there's no sign of bacterial infection from what I can see."

Tim nodded vaguely.

"And…where are you now?" he said quickly.

Rodriguez got the feeling that Murphy very much wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible, before anybody had time to dwell upon the matter of Malcolm. Rodriguez couldn't see why, he probably had one of those tropical diseases. Malaria or something. It was suspicious for Tim to act like this. But as he turned to look at Wu, he saw that he too looked disturbed by what Guiterrez was saying.

He frowned, and looked at the two of them, who were both staring blankly, apparently in thought. Rodriguez had the sudden feeling of being kept out of the loop. There was something else going on.

"We're all at the Lagoon," Guiterrez was saying.

"Ah, yes, we thought you might have headed there," said Tim, grabbing the subject as if a lifeline.

"Well, we didn't end up here on purpose," said Guiterrez.

"We need to re-group. You stay there, and we'll come to you."

"Hey, wait just a minute," said Rodriguez, standing up. "We're not doing that. I'm not going back that way, the Rex's are back there."

Tim looked at him for a moment, and then nodded.

"Yes, okay," said Anderson impatiently, slightly quieter than Guiterrez's voice, as if he was standing a small distance away from the mouthpiece. "But where are you?"

Tim gave a grunt. "In the middle of the jungle, about two miles north-west of the Tyrannosaur nest."

"So you went in the opposite direction?" Sarah's voice said.

Rodriguez smirked at Tim as his eyebrows twitched in agitation. "I wasn't too worried about the direction I was running at the time."

"Alright, fine, we're going to have to work something else out."

Tim nodded again, and threw his rucksack onto the group, and unzipped it. Dropping to his knees, he passed the radio to Wu, and pulled out a large piece of paper. Unfolding it, he revealed it to be the map of the island that they had seen previously on the helicopter. He laid it down on the muddy ground, and ran his finger in a circular motion near the middle of the island, off to the right slightly. "That's around where we are right now," he said.

Then he drew a line across the map, leftwards, towards a large blue blob, showing the lagoon, which was slightly elongated from north to south. "That's where they are."

"Maybe we could go around," said Wu, drawing an arch with his finger, instead of a straight line between the two points, "to get around the Tyrannosaur nest."

There was a crackle of static, and then Anderson said, "No, that'd take too long. It's getting dark. We can't do anything today; we need to find safe places to hold up for the night. Mr. Murphy wouldn't happen to know of any places like that, would he?"

"For you, yes," said Tim, "but not us. We'll have to sleep in a tree or something."

"Are you sure that would be safe? I mean, if you roll over while you're sleeping and fall out…"

"Better than sleeping on the ground, isn't it?"

"…Yes. Okay, what did you have in mind for the rest of us?"

Tim ran his hand over the map again, tapping an area quarter of a mile away from the lagoon, at the periphery of a small field. There was a cluster of small grey squares there, marked 'Hb Mntn'.

"What's that?" asked Rodriguez, eyeing the map curiously.

"Maintenance shed. It contained supplies and materials. And it also dispensed food to the herbivores."

"Is it safe?" asked Anderson.

"The walls are made of concrete, and the entrance is made of heavy steel bars. It should still be in good shape. It's your best chance, anyway."

"Sounds good," said Anderson. "Where is it?"

"You say you're at the lagoon. Where exactly at the lagoon?"

There was a brief pause, and there was the sound of movement from over the radio, and Rodriguez rubbed his head and sighed at the thought of spending the night in a tree.

"We're around midway between north and south of the coast of the lagoon, on the east side," said Anderson finally. There was a slight crunching hiss drifting over the radio as Anderson walked. Rodriguez was reminded of somebody walking on a beach.

Tim put his finger on the location that Anderson had specified, and then nodded. He waved his hand at Wu, asking for the radio.

"Okay, Anderson," he said, "head south-south east, for around quarter of a mile."

"But that'd take us back into the jungle," said Guiterrez.

"Yes, but only for a few hundred meters. Then it opens out again into a field. The buildings are positioned at the tree line. Shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes to get there."

"Make that half an hour, seeing as we're carrying Malcolm," said Guiterrez.

"…Okay then," said Wu.

"Do you know which animals live around that field?" asked Anderson.

"This map is well over ten years old. Although it does detail the territories and paddocks of the dinosaurs, that's from when we determined their homes for them. During that time they could have moved anywhere, migrated."

"So you're telling us that you have no idea," said Sarah.

"Basically," said Tim, "yes."

"What if we run into any problems?" said Guiterrez.

"We keep the radios on," said Wu.

"No," said Anderson, "we can't do that. It'll run the batteries down, and we need to keep them as long as possible."

"Okay, then we turn them on every half an hour, just to be sure that we're all alright."

"Half an hour sounds good to me," said Guiterrez.

"Alright guys, we'll discuss more later, for now we need to get going. The sun is getting way too low," said Rodriguez.

"He's right," said Anderson, "we need to go."

And with that, there was a click, and his voice was replaced by endless hisses and crackles. Rodriguez didn't feel much up to moving. In fact, he felt very much like lying right there, on the ground, and going to sleep. The jungle was getting darker now, and the reduced light gave everything a slight golden glow. But Tim was already walking around the trees within their small area, looking for an adequate tree to sleep in.

"So, what was the deal with Malcolm then?" said Rodriguez sleepily.

Tim didn't answer immediately; he just continued to stare up at the treetops. "There could be a lot of things wrong with him. Could be a result of blood loss, infection or fatigue. I'm not an expert."

"Neither am I," said Rodriguez, rubbing his head again, "but you know something about it."

"What are you talking about?" said Tim absently, standing beneath a thick tree, with a bunch of large branches suspended over thirty feet in the air.

"You didn't look too comfortable when Anderson was explaining about his symptoms."

"I'm concerned, that's all," said Tim, and began to climb the tree which he was beneath, being pushed up by Wu.

Rodriguez stood up slowly, and nodded. As he walked towards the tree, he realized one thing; they weren't telling him everything.


	30. Chapter 28: Shed

Chapter 28

**Shed**

Sarah trudged alongside Edgar, eyeing him curiously. His clothes were smothered in mud, and his face was haggard. He looked completely exhausted, even more so than the rest of the InGen expedition.

She could see that he was more or less an average Californian guy. He had obviously never been in a tropical environment like this, where you had to maintain a conscious effort to keep drinking. He looked badly dehydrated already, his lips chapped and his skin dry.

"When was the last time you drank?" she asked him.

He looked at her morosely for a moment, as if distantly surprised that he was talking to her. Then he said, "Now that you mention it, I can't remember the last time I had a drink."

"You have a headache?"

"A little bit, why?"

She nodded, and reached herself, unzipping her pack as she kept walking. "At the equator you have to drink a lot. And seeing as we're running for our lives and plunging through the jungle so much, you need more than usual."

She handed him her water bottle, and he took the lid off hurriedly, and took several long draughts, gulping rapidly.

He looked okay; she suspected that Dodgson had simply hired him as a henchman. Edgar looked like the kind of loyal bodyguard type that every important businessman needed to keep them out of trouble.

He handed the water bottle back to her, smiling sheepishly as she noticed that he had emptied it around half of the bottle.

She was glad to be able to walk without Ian's weight on her shoulder for a while, as Anderson and Guiterrez were taking supporting him.

Well, she thought. More like dragging him. Ian's condition hadn't improved any since he had lost consciousness after their escape from the Rex, except for a few more mumbled sentences.

They were skirting the tree line of the lagoon, heading towards the shed that Tim had told them about. The sky was getting darker now, turning a shade of deep blue. The rippling surface of the lagoon glittered dully in the dying light. She could still hear the distant calls of the Stegosaur herd as it grazed lazily at the periphery of the beach on the opposite shore.

"It's getting dark quickly," Edgar said beside her in a tone of surprise.

"It always does when you're near the equator," said Anderson, "it almost seems as if God turns out the lights. We have to move quickly. I don't want to be caught out here in the dark. Not with Malcolm like this."

They turned left, and entered the jungle. Listening carefully for signs of the Tyrannosaurs, they descended into darkness, and the light was cut down so much that Harding had trouble seeing more than a foot in front of her. Everything was wet, dripping with moisture as the heat of the day began to recede, and the evaporated water began to form condensation on the big, glossy leaves. Guiterrez and Anderson tripped frequently on the gnarled routes which had turned slippery, and Malcolm kept getting snagged on thorny brambles.

She sighed, and turned to Edgar, who was walking stiffly, as if not sure whether he should stick with them or not. He looked as if he was deciding whether to trust them.

"How did Dodgson know that there were dinosaurs still on this island?" she said, as they stepped over a tangle of vines.

They passed through a shaft of light that was shining dully through the canopy, and Sarah squinted, trying to maintain her night vision.

"He had the InGen place bugged," Edgar answered.

"You seem pretty open about that," said Anderson. She could tell by his voice that he still didn't trust Edgar.

But Edgar had an expression of anger on his face. "The bastard left me to die, why should care about him now?"

Sarah nodded. It sounded fair enough. But she still didn't—

A rustle.

A bush was shaking up ahead. Even in the gloom, he could still see the silvery glint of the leaves as they swayed. The movement was subtle, but she could tell that it wasn't natural. Edgar froze; he had noticed it too.

Sarah reached and drew the handgun from her waistband, and trained it on the bush. Edgar made a tiny movement towards her, as if standing closer to her would protect him. There was a click, and with a glance behind her he saw that Anderson and Guiterrez had paused too. Slowly, ever so slowly they eased Malcolm onto the ground, and rested his back up against a nearby tree trunk.

Anderson un-shouldered his rifle smoothly, and Guiterrez whipped the small tranquilizer gun from the holster at his side, and they both trained their weapons on the same spot as Sarah.

She watched as the bush became still momentarily, and then shook once more. The movement was far too small to be being caused by a Tyrannosaur, but there were other predators; perhaps it was a Dilophosaur.

Or, she thought with a shudder, something worse.

A silence rang in her ears harshly, and she tried to ignore the droplet of sweat that slowly ran down her back. It was a cold sweat; she was trying hard not to shiver.

There was a sharp chirp, and then the bush shook violently.

Guiterrez lowered his gun, and with a glance of incredulity Sarah saw that he was smirking.

"_What are you doing?_" she whispered.

As if in answer to her question, the bush gave an erratic shake, and a tiny dinosaur hopped into view. Around two feet long, it walked awkwardly on the ground, and its bony face narrowed into a beaky structure at its snout.

Microceratops, she thought.

She lowered the gun, and put it back into her waistband. Anderson and Guiterrez stowed their weapons, and stooped to pick Malcolm up again, who looked like he was in a semi-conscious doze.

Turning back to the Microceratops, she watched as it playfully stared at them, bouncing on the balls of its feet. It cocked its head, and chirped.

"Those things are a menace," murmured Anderson.

Sarah agreed. They were cute, but they couldn't have these things following them all over the place. They attracted too much attention.

She looked at Edgar, and saw that he was staring at the Microceratops with an expression of surprise and hesitation. She saw that he was mouthing something that looked very much like '_What the fuck?_'

After a moment, the Micro gave a playful chirp, and bounded sideways, and leaped onto the trunk of the nearest tree. With apparent ease, it shot up the tree, into the thickly leaved branches.

"What is it?" Edgar asked.

"Oh, just a friend of mine," Guiterrez said, grunting as he hefted Malcolm higher on his shoulder and walked past Sarah, further into the jungle.

Edgar gave Guiterrez a look as if he had just announced his will to become a woman, and then shook his head.

They continued through the jungle for several more minutes uneventfully, followed incessantly by the chattering Microceratops. They could hear more Micro's all around them, like a whole group, following them.

"What do you think they want? Why are they following us around like this? Don't they have something better to do?" said Anderson after a while.

"Maybe they think we look weird," said Guiterrez, "I mean, they're probably second generation dinosaurs, so they've most likely never seen humans before."

Sarah quickened her pace; she wanted to get out of this jungle. It was almost pitch black beneath the canopy now, and the sounds around them took on an eerie tone. It was like being in an alien world, beneath the impenetrable barrier of leaves high above them.

Man had no place here. This was an environment that even the best preparation often fell prey to. And seeing as they carried barely enough supplies to keep them going for more than a few days, their situation was rather dire indeed.

She remembered the stories she had heard about the first expeditions to the Congo in Africa during her study of hyenas. She remembered how despite the expeditions had carried everything they would need to survive, they often lost many members of their party. Some of them started at the Atlantic, and trekked upstream, along the Congo River, and were never seen again. Men fell to disease, dehydration, and starvation. The jungle's ever present greenery was deceiving, as it often yielded very little edible matter. When cleared the soil was often found to be very poor. The jungle was an incredibly efficient system built from very little resources, and didn't have much to spare in the form of fruits. The percentage of those who died from predation was far smaller than you would expect. Most died from everything else far before a predator got anywhere near them.

White men maintained rumors of the mysterious jungle tribes than inhabited the dark forests for hundreds of years before they were ever explored by scientific expeditions. Stories of elusive, tiny men who could disappear at will, and killed mighty Elephants for sport.

Of course it was true, that there had been men living in the jungles of the world for thousands of years, who had evolved their own unique ways of surviving in harmony with nature. But white men had grown accustomed to a world in which the natural world was fleeting, almost non-existent. Many lives their entire lives without stepping foot inside the real world, in an environment of steel and glass. So they built zoos, and rabidly vacated the cities in droves for 'real wilderness experiences'. But all of this was far from the truth. The animals in the zoos would never live normal lives, just as if a prisoner in a jail would never live a normal life. Although they had everything they needed, although they could walk, talk, and were technically no different from other people, they would never lead a normal life.

But this was ignored by the world at large. They simply didn't want to come to the realization that they had augmented their own world so much that it was extremely difficult, if not impossible to find a place which was completely free from human interference.

And so it was a shock to the first expeditions who entered the gloom under the towering wooden cities, to enter a habitat in which they had no control, they were utterly at nature's mercy. And also it was a shock to realize that the men who had grown to be at one with nature could utilize its inherent advantages, they could literally melt away into the flora, becoming almost invisible to the naked eye.

They same was true here. They could pass a structure within just only a few meters and never see it. Or a predator. A whole pack of animals could follow them for hours, setting an ambush, ready to strike, and they'd never have the slightest inkling until it was too late.

But everything she had ever heard about the jungle was almost irrelevant here, on this island. As hard as it was to survive in a habitat like this elsewhere in the world; Central America, the Congo, the Amazon, Borneo, Sumatra. All of them were harmless when compared to what haunted these dense forests. The largest predators found in most of the jungles of the world were no larger than a leopard, relatively tame in comparison.

"Is the jungle thicker here, or is it just me?" asked Edgar as his shirt was caught in a tangle of thorns and vines, tearing at his flesh.

Sarah had noticed that too. The trees seemed to be spaced a little wider than usual, and there was far more plant life inhabiting the floor.

"Yeah, it's different," said Guiterrez. "It's secondary jungle."

"And what does that mean?" asked Edgar, casting aside the broad leaves of a large fern.

"Primary forest is what most of the island is covered in. The walking trees, the Ceiba, the palms. All of them are big tall trees with large leaves and wide canopies. They block out the sunlight almost completely, and make it almost impossible for any new trees to grow, or any other types of plants, like ferns or shrubs. For that kind of stuff to grow you usually have to wait for one of the trees to die, and collapse, and create a hole for the sunlight to punch through."

"Well," said Edgar, "I'm assuming that all of the trees didn't die at once to let all this grow?"

"No, I think all of this was cleared when InGen inhabited the island. Secondary jungle like this usually grows when farmers clear the forest, and then abandon it, and allow the jungle to retake the land."

"What do you think was here?"

"I'm not sure. But Tim said that the maintenance shed we're heading to is on the outskirts of a field. Perhaps the jungle has overtaken it in the time since the island was evacuated."

Anderson paused, and Malcolm groaned as his body was stretched as Gutierrez continued to walk for a moment, oblivious. "Wait," said Anderson, "if the jungle has overtaken the field, how do we know where the shed is? We could walk around and not find it for hours in the dark."

"I doubt that," said Sarah.

They all turned to her. "How's that?" asked Guiterrez.

"Because," she said, as she stared at the faint orange glow than emanated from through the gaps in the foliage to their right, "its right there."

The maintenance shed was a featureless concrete hut, rising twelve feet out of the muddy ground that extended for two hundred meters around its periphery. The whole building looked large enough to pass as some form of crude bungalow. There was more than enough room for the five of them to stay the night. Through a small window built into the side a faint light seeped through the etched glass. The door to the structure was ten feet wide, and looked as if it was built to allow access for vehicles. It was constructed of heavy steel bars almost a foot wide. A large rusty padlock hung loosely from a long metal chain looped around the bars. The bars had a split where they met in the middle, and looked as if they slid sideways, away from each other, as though they were a gate. They spaces between them looked like they were just big enough for them to squeeze through.

"Looks good to me," said Anderson, starting forward with Guiterrez and Malcolm.

"Hell," said Guiterrez, "after a day on this island, that thing looks like a five star hotel."

They both chuckled together as they walked forward into the darkness, towards the entrance.

Sarah walked along slowly behind them with Edgar, scrutinizing the building. Even after all this time it looked like it was still in pretty good shape. The jungle had started to retake its lost ground; creepers and vines were beginning to snake their way up the crumbling walls. But overall there was a good distance between the walls and the tree line.

They reached the gate of the building, the thick gate glinting dully in the last shreds of daylight. Sarah noticed that it was surprisingly heavy, and looked like it was built to withstand a great deal of damage. Tim had said that this was an herbivorous maintenance shed and food dispenser, but what species? She knew very well that at Jurassic Park not even all of the vegetarians were necessarily friendly.

Anderson took his rifle down from his shoulder, and passed it to Guiterrez, who was supporting Malcolm by himself. Anderson gripped one of the bars, and deftly lowered his body so that it was horizontal, and swung his body underneath, stepping into the lit space beyond. His hands appeared through the bars for his weapon, and Guiterrez handed it to him. His hands disappeared again, and there were a few moments of silence filled only by his echoing footsteps as he moved into the building, checking the interior for signs of life.

A few moments later his silhouette reappeared, and gestured for them all to follow him through.

Edgar moved forward, and scrambled through quickly. He and Anderson stood and helped as Gutierrez eased Malcolm onto his side and gently fed him through the bars, handling him like a valuable package. Then Gutierrez slipped through a little less gracefully, almost tripping as his foot got stuck.

Sarah walked forward, and took one last glance around. The sky above was now almost black, with the faintest hint of orange and pink on the horizon. The moon was already rising into the sky, and the first of the stars were starting to twinkle.

The jungle was now entirely dark, the leaves swaying at the tree line seemed strangely ominous, their silvery glint concealing god only knows what.

And then on the wind she heard a sigh as she bent down to slip through the bars. She froze in her crouched position, hanging precariously in space. Listening hard, and trying to zone out the footsteps and whisperings of the others inside the building, she stayed absolutely still, staring out at the night. Being careful not to move her head, she looked in every direction, swiveling her eyes in their sockets, searching for the source of the sound. It came again, ever so slightly, carried on the night breeze.

She shivered.

In the moonlight, a shadow was suddenly cast over the field, throwing a black smudge over the silvery glint of the grass that coated the ground. And then it was gone, as quickly as it had come.

She frowned, and stared for another thirty seconds, unmoving. Her muscles began to ache, and her neck hurt from holding the position for so long.

"Harding."

She snapped her head sideways, and saw Anderson staring through the bars of the gate at her, looking at her curiously.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

She hesitated for a moment.

Was she hearing things? Seeing things? Surely by now she must be getting a little paranoid. And she hadn't slept for over a day.

She almost laughed to herself in the gloom. A day; it seemed like a week.

But she was sure that she had seen it. Whether or not she had seen or heard anything, she decided that it was better to be on Anderson's side of the bars than not.

Taking another fleeting glance around, she slipped through the bars, and walked through into the shed.

The floor felt solid underneath her feet; a welcome change from the mud and tangled vegetation that she had dealt with all day.

Strip lights lined the ceiling, flickering every few seconds, illuminating the building.

The whole thing was a single large room, roughly thirty feet wide and fifty feet long. Most of the floor was clear, showing cracked concrete laced with traces of the first vines and creepers breaking through.

But in places there were stacks of supplies and building materials scattered around in piles. Long metal poles, large wooden crates, coils of wire, some wire mesh netting, spare chain link fencing, ceramic insulators, and spare tires. Running along one wall was what once must have been a conveyer belt of some sort. Sarah guessed it was an automated system for feeding the dinosaurs that had lived around here.

Anderson and Guiterrez carried Malcolm to the side, next to one of the wooden crates, and lowered him down onto the floor gently.

"We're lucky," said Anderson, staring out through the gate, "We got here just in time".

Sarah could see what he meant; now that they were in the comfortably lit shed, outside it looked inky black. She could see anything at all beyond the gate.

"Home sweet home," said Guiterrez, taking off his pack and dropping to the ground. Using his bag as a pillow, he stretched out on the ground, and sighed.

"I could sleep for a week," he said weakly, his eyes already drooping.

"Well, you haven't got that long," said Anderson, walking towards the gate, and sitting down, his back against the wall, staring out at the night. "We'll have to keep a sentry on guard throughout the night, take it in turns. I'll go first."

"I'll go second," said Edgar, nodding.

Anderson's face gave a twitch at this. "I'd prefer if Martin would take the second watch," he said firmly.

"Oh, thanks for your vote of confidence, John, but I'm really tired."

"Martin."

"Alright, alright. Wake me up in a couple of hours then." And with that, Guiterrez closed his eyes, and was snoring within a few moments.

Sarah groaned, and walked over to where Malcolm lay, breathing shallowly. She could see that even the short journey from the lagoon to the maintenance shed had caused his condition to deteriorate even more. His skin was now a definitive grey colour, and a film of sweat coated his skin.

She leaned in close towards him, and his eyelids fluttered. "Sarah," he whispered through dry lips. His voice was course and harsh. He must be thirsty. She reached into her pack, and to keep him awake she decided to keep him talking.

"Ian," she said, smiling. "How are you?"

Malcolm took a deep breath, marshalling his strength before speaking. "Peachy, thanks. Where are we?"

"We're in a maintenance shed. We're going to stay here for the night. Here, drink this."

She tilted his head forward, and tipped the water bottle towards his lips, and trickled the liquid down his throat. He swallowed slowly, and deliberately, sighing.

"Everyone's here?" he asked as she tilted his head back down.

"You, I, Anderson, Martin and that guy Edgar."

Malcolm showed no sign of surprise at the mention of Dodgson's accomplice. Whether he was simply too weak to recognize this or whether he knew something she didn't was unclear. Both were possible.

"Where are the others?"

She paused for a moment, and sighed.

"We don't know exactly."

Malcolm's gaze glazed for a moment before sharpening again. He nodded slowly, and gasped as he moved his injured leg slightly.

"Okay…" he whispered, and slowly his head tilted sideways and his eyelids slowly slipped down, his eyeballs rolling back into his head.

"Ian," she said, taking his head in her hands, "Ian, can you hear me?"

"Always new mistakes," he whispered to her, and then he resumed his shallow breathing. He had gone back to sleep.

She stared at his sleeping form for a few moments, and the whole situation seemed to crash down on her like a ton of bricks. Once again they were stuck on an island crawling with animals that would like nothing more than to tear them to pieces. They were lost, nobody knew where they were, they had a few puny guns and a single soldier to help them out. And now Ian was hurt, badly. For the first time in living memory, Sarah wanted to cry.

After a few minutes she rubbed her forehead, and moved to Malcolm's leg. She gently lifted the cuff of his trouser, and stared at his bandaged leg. It looked clean to her; his wound had stopped bleeding. She lowered the cuff again, and suddenly realized how tired she was.

Her limbs felt heavy, and her eyes ached. She wanted to sleep so badly. Even the hard concrete ground seemed suddenly inviting.

She unzipped her pack, and took out the shirt and jeans that she had worn the day before. Carefully, she lifted Malcolm's head, and put the jeans underneath it. It wasn't much of a pillow, but it was something.

She took the shirt for herself, and lay down next to him, pressing her back against him. She glanced over at the others.

In the dim orange light she saw Anderson perched in his sitting position, who waved and smiled reassuringly. She tried to smile back, but found that her face wouldn't move anymore.

Guiterrez was snoring loudly, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

Edgar had positioned himself in one of the corners of the room, and had stretched out on the ground, and was staring fixatedly at the ceiling. He didn't look like he was going to go to sleep anytime soon.

As she started to drift, she closed her eyes. In the darkness, she heard the sounds of the jungle. They seemed amplified now at night. Was it because she wasn't moving around anymore? She doubted it; they were definitely getting louder.

And as she lost consciousness a light breeze tickled its way through the shed, carrying a soft artificial sigh with it.


	31. Chapter 29: Missing

Chapter 29

**Missing**

Tim awoke groggily in the gloom that surrounded him, and shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden surface on which he lay. He groaned as drumbeats of pain shot through his skull. Waves of nausea washed over him, and he struggled for a few moments not to throw up all over himself.

Slowly, he came back to reality, his vision sharpening. He was on his back, facing the black sky, illuminated by countless pinpricks of light. For a moment or two he just stared upwards at the stars and the moon, knowing that so many other people in the world were staring up at the very same sky, safe and oblivious. Picking out a few of the constellations that he recognized, he wished that he had never come here. Suddenly his carefully laid plans seemed childishly foolish. He had stranded himself and many others on an island where man was no longer welcome.

Tim squinted for a moment, and wondered what had woken him. He had a vague recollection of a thud, or a vibration, moments before awakening. Perhaps it had been a dream. He decided that it was just his imagination.

A cool breeze ran through the twisted branches of the densely packed trees, brushing his face gently. In the starlight the tips of the branches above him gave off a silvery glow as they swayed slowly, almost dancing to the rhythm of the jungle chorus.

Despite the rough bark, which was damp and dripping with moisture, it was quite a pleasant place to spend the night. But his body felt so battered he had no time to admire the scenery. Everything hurt. He felt weak, devoid of energy, and had neither the strength nor the will to shift from his less than adequate position.

Before going to sleep he had noticed that his entire body was bruised and covered with small scrapes and cuts. Slashes and droplets of blood streaked his clothes, which themselves were torn and ragged. It was almost a shock to see how much a single day in the jungle had caused him to deteriorate.

He had been momentarily surprised, not being able to remember how he had managed to get all of the injuries. But in the end it was to be expected; they had come crashing down in a helicopter after being attacked by prehistoric flying monsters, and had ever since been pursued by their land dwelling relatives.

Tim had found that the events of the day had flooded his mind, and he had found himself unable to sleep for over an hour, replaying the various encounters.

Memories from his childhood, long forgotten, came streaming back, taunting him.

He had remembered being in that car as the torrential rain poured outside, and watched as the glass of water on the dashboard had shuddered suddenly. The deep, booming sounds, which seemed to go right through him, heralding the arrival of the Rex were so crisp in his mind it was as if not a day had gone by since the event had transpired.

Most of all he could not get rid of the image of the Tyrannosaur as it awoke suddenly as they so foolishly dared to enter its nesting area. The cold, golden, reptilian glare was emblazoned on his memory.

Groaning, he rolled onto his side, and looked around in the dark. He, Wu and Rodriguez had climbed the largest and sturdiest tree that they could find, one with strong, thick branches that would support their weight. Tim had insisted on climbing at least forty feet before he felt safe enough to stop. Here they were near to the canopy, and he was fairly certain that none of the dinosaurs on the island could climb trees.

At least, he hoped they couldn't.

Because, the truth was that his Grandfather, however well intentioned his actions had been, had become far too involved in raking in the dollars, and had lost his grip on the seriousness of the cutting edge technology that he was employing to fund his scheme.

He had ordered hundreds of these ancient beings to be brought back from extinction, when nobody knew anything about their behaviour, social structure or potential threat to human life.

Instead of studying each individual closely for an extended period of time, carefully documenting the behaviour it expressed and creating the park keeping the animals in mind, they were simply clumped together in large herds and released into the wilderness of the islands.

Of course, nobody had predicted that anything would happen to the island or InGen, and that everybody had expected to make billions of dollars, leading their research far into the future. But the fact remained that they had only a few short years to study these animals, and that in reality they knew virtually nothing about them.

There could be all sorts of surprises still in store for them.

Of course, when Tim had taken over from his Grandfather, he had long since promised himself that he would not overlook such basic and obvious mistakes. He made sure that he kept himself open minded to all possibilities, even those that he found distasteful.

And now, after years of research and careful planning, InGen was blooming once more. Because he had been patient, and had done his best to keep himself from falling into the same trap as his predecessor.

And then the DX virus had reappeared. He had suspected that it would happen one day. Perhaps it would've happened in a few years, or fifty years into the future, but deep down he had always known that it would resurface one day. Ever since his Grandfather had told him on his death bed. If he had used the precious time he had left to disclose that information with him, it must have been of great importance. He had known that from the start.

He had known that as much as he knew that once it did reappear, he would have to act quickly. The flimsy deal with the Costa Ricans was solely dependant on the fact that these animals were secluded in a contained area controlled by either themselves or aid from the United States military forces (who also monitored the five deaths island chain) and the promise that they posed no threat to human life.

The truth was that in reality both promises had been broken, and then some. The animals were washing up on shoreline all over the west coasts of countries all along the Americas.

For a time this was grudgingly accepted by the Costa Ricans, and covered up, as although the animals they were in fact dead and as such posed no threat.

But now, this disease posed a real threat. It indicated quarantine, and a possible worldwide epidemic. Even if such things could be avoided, if the truth got out it would mean the end for the Costa Rican economy.

He had known that the hammer would fall hard when they found out about this, but he had never expected them to go to the lengths that they already had.

To kill a man, in sole interest of maintaining economical integrity, was unavoidably wrong. And who knew if they had covered up the deaths of others?

After he found out about Mike Bakker's 'death', he had no illusions about that fact that they would swiftly move on the InGen islands. And if they found the most dangerous secret; that Isla Nublar still harboured dinosaurs, they wouldn't hesitate to destroy it. And he was certain that the US would feel the same way.

It was only a matter of time.

However, after all this time, and despite his best efforts, the blindingly efficient Ian Malcolm had seemed to see right through him. Before they had even set off he had promised Tim that his plan for procuring the vaccine would fail. But he had never explained why that was.

Tim would have to find out as soon as possible, because if he could predict things to this point, then what else could go wrong? For some reason he found that he had a strange confidence in Malcolm's abilities.

He sighed, and listened idly to the sounds that seemed to emanate from deep in the jungle, from above, from below; all around him. He could hear the ringing, clicking and croaking of millions of insects, birds and frogs. Some of them were probably dinosaurs too.

He listened to the slow, steady breathing of the others, a few branches below him. It was strangely comforting to know that despite the dire situation that he now found himself in – again – that at least he wasn't alone.

And the—

He cocked his head. Something was wrong.

He strained, listening. He tried to distinguish their breathing. The rancorous orchestra of other sounds made it difficult to hear them at all. But he was sure of it now. He could only hear one of them.

His heart skipping a beat, he snapped his head to look down below.

Wu lay below him, lying on his stomach, gripping the branch like a monkey. His chest slowly rose and fell underneath his clothing, making him seem to throb in the darkness. After looking at the sky for several minutes Tim was astonished at how dark it was beneath the broad canopy of the jungle. He could barely distinguish the outline of his own tree from the inky blackness. He was only able to see Wu because of the movement that his breathing created.

He scanned the branches for Rodriguez's silhouette, scrambling up onto his hands and knees. He broke out in a cold sweat as he realized that he and Wu were alone in the tree.

Rodriguez was not there.


	32. Chapter 30: A Long Night

Chapter 30

**A Long Night**

Guiterrez yawned, and opened his eyes. He was staring up at the metal girders that lined the concrete ceiling of the maintenance shed, glistening with moss and rust. Dull orange light filtered down to meet his gaze, emanating from the old strip lights on the ceiling of the shed, which flickered and emitted a slight buzz, as if a wasp were trapped inside. He felt the hard floor beneath him, and the smell of the jungle wafting in through the open entrance. A light breeze washed over him, and the sounds of the forest around them was loud and active. Hoots and howls from monkeys rang out sharply, followed swiftly by the thrashing of leaves and twigs. Frogs and insects formed an indescribable clashing orchestra in the background, never ceasing for even a moment. From far off, he heard the roar of one of the Tyrannosaurs, but it sounded miles away. Much closer, he could hear the familiar twittering and chattering of the Microceratops, which appeared to have stayed in the periphery of the jungle around the shed. And another sound was mixed in with it; a slight sigh that glided effortlessly on the wind. It was almost like the breathing of a horse, only slightly higher pitched, more reptilian.

He felt a lot better after the sleep; his head was clearer and his feet throbbed less. He found it easier to think clearly, and felt calmer. But his entire body ached. Every muscle felt tight and uncooperative, unwilling to move from their comfortable position on the concrete floor. His lips were chapped, and his stomach was cramping every few seconds, making loud grumbling noises. He was starving.

With a great effort, he rolled over onto his side, and looked around. It was still dark, he couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours. Through the bars of the shed he could only see inky blackness, a sea of nothing. Suddenly a shadow passed over him, and he saw what had woke him up.

Anderson stood over him, his rifle glinting dully in the light. He looked tired, but oddly pleased; Guiterrez guessed it was to have some company.

"Your watch," said Anderson, taking the rifle from his shoulder. He looked from Guiterrez to the weapon, as if wondering whether to trust him with it.

"That time already?" muttered Guiterrez, grunting as he forced himself into a sitting position.

"'Fraid so. You know how to use one of these?"

Guiterrez looked at the weapon momentarily, and found that the rifle appeared intimidating now that the notion of operating it was in hand. He knew how to use the tranquiliser guns that he used to sedate lizards, and he was fairly sure that they must be similar, but in truth he had never fired a real firearm.

"Erm, no," he said eventually, glancing around at the shed.

Sarah lay next to Malcolm, her body rising and falling steadily with her breathing. Malcolm himself didn't look as if he had improved much. In fact, he looked worse. His face was covered in a film of sweat, his hair matted, and he kept twitching and muttering quietly. Edgar's shapeless silhouette was slumped in one of the corners, snoring mildly.

"Not to worry," Anderson was saying, bringing Guiterrez's attention back to the gun. "I don't think you'll need it, I doubt anything could get through those bars. But just in case, this is an M500A Colt Carbine. Lightweight and accurate. The safety is off. Simple concept; clearly identify your target and squeeze the trigger."

Guiterrez looked at him for a moment, slightly more apprehensive than before. He was worried that he might shoot somebody, or himself.

Anderson simply said, "Point and shoot."

"Ah," said Guiterrez. "Okay, sure."

Hesitantly, he got to his feet unsteadily, his legs screaming in protest, and reached out, feeling the gun in his hands. It was surprisingly light; he had been expecting a lumbering heavy metal contraption. But this felt easy to use, and comfortable. He turned it over gingerly, inspecting the surface of the barrel, looking through the sights and running his fingers over the light mounted on the side.

Anderson seemed to think that he had it handled, as he was sitting down against the wall, his eyes already drooping. Guiterrez was left standing there with the large weapon, feeling slightly awkward at the prospect of having the responsibility of defending their shelter.

"Who has the next watch after me?" he asked Anderson.

Anderson shook his boots off, and sighed as he lay down against the wall. "Sarah does," he said, "wake her up in two hours."

Guiterrez nodded, and walked over to the entrance, and sat down cross legged, staring out through the bars. He felt exposed sitting there in front of the wall of darkness. The light from the shed extended only a foot or two past the gate, where it seemed to hit a solid barrier, and simply gave way to nothingness. He had the distinct impression of hordes of dinosaurs with massive fangs and drooling jaws waiting for him just beyond the light.

"Oh, and don't forget the radio checkpoint," said Anderson sleepily.

"The what?"

"Check in with Tim, Wu and Rodriguez, every half an hour."

"You've been doing that all night?"

"Yeah. Well, I haven't heard anything from them for over an hour. I think they must have all fallen asleep. Maybe you'll have some luck though."

"When do I check in next?"

Anderson opened his eyes, apparently with some difficulty, and glanced at his watch. "About now," he muttered, and then laid his head back down, and closed his eyes.

Guiterrez retrieved his bag from where he had been sleeping, and pulled out his radio, and flicked it on. A hiss of static blew through the shed, echoing off the walls. The power light on the top glowed strongly. Carefully, he laid Anderson's gun on the floor beside him, and pressed the 'talk' button.

"Hello?" he said, and took his finger off the button, and waited calmly as the static hissed again.

He waited for several moments, before trying again. There was no answer; except for the hissing and spitting of static. He tried three more times, to no avail. There was nobody there on the other end. He sighed, and was about to switch it off when there was a sharp bust of static, and then Tim's voice crackled into focus, as loud as if he sat next to him.

"--Yes, Henry, I know very well how to operate--Damn it, Hello?!" Tim's voice sounded agitated, and scared.

"Tim?" he asked, sitting up straight at the urgency that had been conveyed in Tim's voice.

"Martin, damn it, where have you been?"

"I've been trying to contact you for over two minutes..."

"Never mind that," said Tim, cutting him off. "We have a problem."

Guiterrez frowned, and looked over at Anderson. He was sitting bolt upright, looking back at Guiterrez and sitting bolt upright, listening intently, all signs of fatigue gone from his face.

"What kind of problem?" said Guiterrez into the radio.

"Rodriguez. He's gone."

The words rang sharply in Guiterrez's ears, and seemed to echo for a moment inside his head. He glanced at Anderson, who got to his feet, and wiggled his fingers, his hand extended forward, asking for the radio. Guiterrez handed it over without question.

"Say again, Mr. Murphy. Did you say Rodriguez is gone?" said Anderson into the radio.

"Yeah. I woke up, and he's gone. He's not around the tree we're sleeping in. And it's not safe to go down to look for him."

Anderson nodded to himself. "He has his radio. He'll contact us if he's alive."

And then, as if on cue, there was another burst of static, and Rodriguez's frightened voice shouted through the earpiece.

"--Fucking Christ," he cursed. There was the sound of rustling, and banging; it sounded like the radio was being knocked into trees as Rodriguez moved through the jungle And there was another sound; the same sighing that he had heard earlier. It was sharper across the radio, and louder.

"Rodriguez," said Anderson, his voice definitively calm. "Are you alright?"

"Not really. I'm in the middle of the fucking jungle in the dark."

"Are you injured?"

"No," said Rodriguez, panting, "but that might change very soon."

Anderson paused, and then said slowly into the mouthpiece, "What do you mean?"

"There's something out here."

And now Guiterrez could hear it clearly. The sighing was loud, and had a substantial presence. And slightly, ever so slightly, he thought he could hear the ground trembling, as if a shadow of the impact tremors of the Tyrannosaurs.

"What is it?" came Tim's voice.

"I don't know. But its big. And it knows I'm here."

"Tyrannosaur?"

"No, smaller than that. But big enough. I'm in trouble here."

The sounds coming across the radio were now louder, and there was no doubt that Rodriguez was running at speed through the jungle, and by the sounds of his breathing he was frightened.

"Where are you?" asked Anderson.

"I don't know. I tried to find the tree that we were in, but it's pitch black out here, I can't see shit."

"How did you even get out of the tree?" said Tim's voice. He sounded angry, as if expecting that Rodriguez had purposefully left them in the tree for a night-time stroll.

Rodriguez snorted. "You think I meant to do it? I must have fallen out. Either that or I'm a damn good sleepwalker."

Anderson cut in. "Never mind that. If you've been running you'll never find the same tree again. Least of all in the dark. You need to come here."

Rodriguez laughed in a panic stricken, hysterical fashion. "And how do you suggest I do that? I must have run quarter of a mile by now. That means I've got another half a mile to go to the shed. And that's if I've run in the right direction."

"Let's assume that you have."

"Right, let's. But there's still the nagging pickle of how I'm supposed to find you."

"Hold on."

Anderson shoved the radio to his belt, and looked around at the shed. He walked over to the nearest wall, and followed it, looking it up and down, muttering to himself.

"What are you doing?" asked Guiterrez.

"Flares."

Guiterrez nodded; it made sense that a small station like this would have an emergency flare-gun signalling method in case one of the vehicles broke down out here. If the power went down the phones wouldn't work, and they'd be stranded.

"Wha?..." mumbled Edgar, who lifted his head sleepily as Anderson stumbled over him, almost tripping. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," said Anderson stiffly, "go back to sleep."

Edgar looked at him sullenly for a moment, before standing up. Now Sarah had also lifted her head at the commotion as Anderson knocked over boxes as he followed the walls in a wide circle. "What is it?" she asked.

"Rodriguez is in trouble," said Guiterrez shortly.

"Aha!" said Anderson, and with a flourish pulled a red plastic box from the wall, which clattered as something inside tumbled around. It was covered in dust, and was starting to degrade. Anderson quickly laid it down on the floor, and popped it open. Inside there was thick padding, and a small blunted flare gun. Laid out next to it were two large, bullet shaped silver objects. Anderson pulled the gun out, along with one of the flares, and cracked open the chamber. He walked towards the gate, popping the flare in and taking the radio from his belt.

"Rodriguez, look up," he said into the mouthpiece.

There was a pause, and then a crackle. "What?" said Rodriguez.

"Look up." Anderson snapped the chamber into place, and cocked the gun. Sticking his arm through the bars, and aiming straight up, he squeezed the trigger. There was a sharp bang, and then a loud sizzling filled the air as a bright red flare soared up a hundred feet into the air, leaving behind a trail of thin wispy smoke. The entire shed and surrounding area was thrown into a harsh red glare. The blackness broken, Guiterrez caught glances of the jungle across the grassy field in front of them, swaying lazily in the evening breeze as the leaves reflected the red light.

Anderson pulled his arm back through the bars, and watched the flare continue to soar upwards, now at over two hundred feet. There it stopped climbing, and exploded in a shower of blaring red sparks. Guiterrez was sure that it would be seen for miles around, but he wasn't altogether comfortable with the fact that it'd be seen by every dinosaur in the vicinity as well as Rodriguez.

"I see it," said Rodriguez. "Where'd you get a flare?"

"It was in here," said Anderson, "it's right above our position. Can you see where it is?"

Rodriguez's breaths were now more strained, and his voice was quieter. "Sure I can, it's not far."

Suddenly there was a massive crack, and then silence. Rodriguez's radio had gone dead.

"Shit," said Guiterrez.

"Guys?" came Tim's voice. "What happened?"

"Rodriguez's radio's gone."

"He's dead?"

"We'll know soon enough," said Anderson, "he said he wasn't far. He'll be here in a few minutes if he's still alive."

Guiterrez turned, and picked the carbine rifle off the floor, and walked over to the entrance. Anderson continued to try and raise Rodriguez on the radio, saying his name every few seconds. Edgar was sitting against the back wall of the shed, eyeing the group apprehensively, obviously trying to separate himself from the situation. Sarah came over to stand next to Guiterrez, and stared out into the night.

"Have you heard it?" she asked.

Guiterrez looked at her for a moment. "Heard what?"

"That sound. I heard it earlier, and then over the radio just then."

"That sighing?"

Sarah nodded.

"He said something was out there with him," said Gutierrez.

"Is that what the gun is for?" she said, looking from him to the large gun in his hands.

Guiterrez realized that he must look unnaturally commanding in the situation, holding in his hands their primary defence. "I don't want to take chances. If Rodriguez shows up, something might be on his tail. I'd rather take it out than let it skulk around outside and wait for us."

Sarah nodded, then leaned in close to him. "Have you ever fired that thing?" she asked.

Gutierrez felt himself blush a little. "No. How hard can it be?"

"Well, I'm just saying. Wouldn't it be better if John had the gun? You could shoot Rodriguez."

Anderson's voice came from behind them. "You'll be fine, Martin. Just keep doing what you're doing."

Guiterrez took a deep breath, and trained the rifle on the spaces in between the bars of the gate. He listened hard, and tried to calm himself. He listened to the sounds that came from the jungle in front of them. The Microceratops were quiet now, he couldn't hear them at all. In fact, he realized with a sudden chill that he could hear nothing beyond Anderon's voice on the radio. The jungle was silent.

Or was it?

He cocked his head. And slowly, a slight patter came to his attention. It was coming from the ground in front of them. Like a herd of tiny horses was stampeding outside. And then it was coming from above them. A thousand tiny impacts, all over the roof. And then it was coming from all around them. A trickling, wet sound like a stream began in seconds, and then water dripped through a crack in the ceiling and fell onto Guiterrez's head.

It was raining.

Lightning cracked, illuminating the jungle brilliantly. Thunder blasted through the shelter, and made the concrete vibrate. The patter increased incredibly fast, and within a few seconds they were immersed within a torrential downpour. The rain hammered down, slamming against the ground, churning up the mud and gravel. It sounded as if they were standing within a giant waterfall. Water fell in waves, forming puddles within seconds. Anderson had to raise his voice as he spoke into the radio, and as lightning burst through the sky once more he still couldn't hear anything else.

But then there was a different pattering. The familiar pattern of a running human. The sound of feet splashing in deep puddles and slipping on the grass.

Guiterrez lifted the rifle cautiously, and trained it in wide arcs through the bars. And then there was a sigh. It was still barely audible, and had he not been listening out for it, he wouldn't have heard it at all over the rain. But now it sent a shiver up his spine, and he knew that it was close. Whatever it was out there, it was very close indeed.

A twig snapped, and Guiterrez squeezed the trigger on the rifle instinctively. There was a sharp bang, and the rifle bucked in his hands. The whine of the bullet sounded hollow in the echo of the shed, and there was a dull thud as it hit the ground in the darkness, followed swiftly by a yell.

"Hold your fire, damn it!"

Rodriguez stumbled into the light of the shed, soaking wet and glistening with mud from head to foot. Only the white's of his eyes seemed untouched, which almost glowed in comparison to the glistening brown of his body.

"Rodriguez," said Sarah, "thank god. Get in here."

"What's happening?" came Tim's voice faintly.

"He's here," said Anderson.

Rodriguez smiled, and made to step forward. His smile was still on his face when the jaws of the Metriacanthosaurus reached silently out of the darkness, angled horizontally, and closed around his mid-riff. The skin of the dinosaur glistened with a black, leathery texture, and the fangs glinted maliciously. The teeth slid effortlessly into the flesh of his body, and within a moment Rodriguez was enclosed within the jaws, only centimetres away from the cold, dead-looking, reptilian eye. Guiterrez only had time to give a wordless shout as Rodriguez's eyes opened widely and he was pulled backwards into the thunderstorm. The whole thing had happened silently, and fast. Too fast.

"RODRIGUEZ!" shouted Gutierrez, running up to the bars, and made to climb through them. He had to help him. He had no idea what he could do to fend off such a large animal, but he knew that he couldn't just stand by and watch the animal tear Rodriguez apart. Sarah grabbed him, and wrestled him away.

"You can't! You'll be killed!"

"We can't leave him, damn it!"

"Martin, you can't help him!"

Guiterrez fought from her grip, and realized that he was still holding the gun in his hands. With a surge of rage, he raised the rifle, aiming through the bars. The gun shook in his hands as he struggled to focus. But he quickly realized that there was no way that he was going to be able to help Rodriguez now. It was completely dark, and if he shot he'd almost cetainly miss. Worse, he could hit Rodriguez.

Rodriguez was screaming, and there was the sound of his feet kicking as he struggled against the dinosaur which mixed in with the sound of the pouring rain. Guiterrez knew that the Metriacanthosaurus was easily the size of an Elephant, perhaps bigger. He didn't stand a chance.

"Help!" he wailed, "Please! Somebody help me!"

Guiterrez felt a terrible force crush his chest, as if an icy fist had reached up and gripped his heart.

Anderson appeared beside Guiterrez, open mouthed. The three of them stood there, staring out at the night helplessly.

There was a crunch, and Rodriguez's scream became agonizingly high pitched. The sound of his struggling was now gone. He was simply screaming. Guiterrez began to shake uncontrollably. There was a final screech of pain, and then there was a sickening rip of flesh, and then nothing.

Only the merciless sound of the rain.


	33. Chapter 31: Storm

Chapter 31

**Storm**

Wu listened intently as the rain hammered endlessly on his head, stinging his scalp. The radio spat as it became soaked despite Tim's best efforts to keep it dry. Wu felt empty as Anderson repeated his previous sentence.

"Rodriguez is dead."

Wu slumped against the trunk of the tree, his clothes soaked and heavy. He felt suddenly defeated. They had kept going all day, avoiding death by the skin of their teeth several times. But now one of them had died. It was somehow strangely more real now, the danger seemed closer to home. He really could die here, on this island. He never wanted to come back here, it was a terrible idea. The very existence of this place shouldn't even be. It should have been destroyed years ago.

"Fuck!" they heard Guiterrez shout over the radio. The fury within his voice was evident even over the roar of the rain. The sound of him pounding the concrete walls of the maintenance shed carried clearly to their ears. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he continued to shout, pounding the walls ever harder.

"Calm down," said Edgar's voice.

"You calm down, you sneaky bastard!" roared Guiterrez, and there was the sound of a loud thud, and Wu knew that Guiterrez had hit Edgar.

"Martin, stop!" said Sarah.

Scuffling sounds came over the radio, and Wu closed his eyes against them. He wanted to go home. He didn't want to be here. Maybe they could have created the cure to the DX virus from scratch, maybe they had never needed his research at all. All he wanted was to leave this island and never come back. He looked at Tim, who sat morosely, shocked, still.

"Tim, we need to get out of here," he said quietly.

Tim looked at him sadly. "So much death, to get us this far. To turn back now would be an insult to the lives lost," he said quietly.

"How can you say that?" asked Wu loudly. "If you carry on we'll only lose more life. Malcolm is holding on by a thread from what they've told us. He can't go on any further."

"Our lives don't matter in the scale of things."

"What?!"

"Henry, what happens if we leave now, without that cure?"

Wu stopped. The disease would mutate, and spread throughout the population. Without a natural oceanic barrier, or proper quarantine, there wouldn't be any stopping the virus. It could spread throughout the Americas. And worst case scenario; infected people carry the virus overseas. A worldwide epidemic.

"People die," he said finally.

"Millions of people die," Tim corrected him. "Now, the question Henry, is; Are you willing to sacrifice few to save many?"

"Perhaps I could make the cure from scratch. I may not need to research."

Tim shook his head. "Henry, we went over this in New York. It'd take months to start again. And from what you told me, you were close."

Wu couldn't find another argument. And he could see that there was no way that he was going to change Tim's mind.

"Tim," said Anderson's voice over the radio, "you guys should get over here."

Wu shook his head vigorously. No way; he wasn't leaving this tree in the dark, not after what he had just heard. That thing was down there, waiting for him, he was sure of it.

"We can't risk it, John," said Tim.

"You have to," said Anderson, "this storm isn't going to quiet down anytime soon. You need to find shelter, or you're going to go into hypothermia. And we can't have that now."

"Right now," said Wu, "I'm taking hypothermia over being eaten alive."

Tim was shaking his head. "We can't. We have no way of knowing what's out there. If there's more of them, or whether that one isn't still hungry. We have to stay here for the night."

"Fine. But we have another problem," said Anderson, "Malcolm. He's not fit enough to move. He'll die by the time we get him to the visitor centre. He has to stay here."

"That's fine."

There was a pause on both ends. Wu frowned at Tim; how could Tim be considering leaving Malcolm behind?

"What do you mean 'that's fine'?" asked Guiterrez.

"You continue on to the visitor centre. Me and Wu will head north."

Wu looked sharply at Tim. He hadn't even mentioned this plan to Wu, nor could Wu find any reason why they would head into more dinosaur territory instead of heading towards where the visitor centre was located.

"Why?" asked Sarah.

"The eastern garage."

"What's there?"

"The park's maintenance vehicles are stored there. If we can get there, we can drive back, pick up Malcolm and head to the visitor centre."

"How? There's no road here."

"Yes, there is. Underground. There's a door at the back of the shed."

There was a pause. "Okay, but how are you planning to make them work. The fuel would have dried up years ago, and that's if the cars work at all, which I highly doubt."

"The last shipment that the island received before the island was shut down by Nedry, the ship that took Wu home contained the new vehicles that we were planning to put into service to replace the gas powered Jeeps."

"And what are those?"

"Electrically powered. They're larger, more advanced versions of the golf cart vehicles we used to use. Powered by batteries. The power should be on by now, and they'll be charging up right now. Hopefully by the time we get there we'll have enough juice to hitch a ride."

"That could work," said Anderson finally.

Wu had to agree; as much as he detested the idea of wandering even further into the island, there was a definite logic to the plan.

"But still," Anderson said, "how do we get to the visitor centre?"

"Follow the lagoon around, and you'll find the jungle river which heads north. If you follow that, eventually you'll come to within quarter of a mile of the visitor centre."

"And how are we supposed to know when to turn off?"

"Just keep up our radio checkpoints, and I can guide you to it. The only problem is this god damn storm."


	34. Chapter 32: Tabula Rasa

Chapter 32

** Tabula Rasa**

They found Rodriguez's body the next morning; Anderson and Guiterrez went out through the gate to look for him before the others had woken up. It was just before dawn, and the sky was just beginning to show the first inklings of pink breaking through the deep navy blue tinge that coated the landscape. The moon was still out, casting a slight silver highlight onto the tips of the trees and roof of the shed.

Anderson trod carefully; the grass was soaked from the rainstorm, and muddy brown puddles were scattered everywhere. In front of them, behind them and to their right was pristine, untouched jungle, and to the left a small field extended for a few hundred metres, in which a few Microceratops skittered around, drinking from the puddles and chasing each other. Their eyes glowed eerily in the early pre-dawn light, and Anderson couldn't help but be spooked out by them a little.

They walked in silence, not daring to even utter a single word to each other, as they still had no idea whether the Metriacanthosaurus was in the area, if there were more of them, or what else inhabited this area. Anderson carried his Carbine rifle again, keeping it at his side, just in case they needed it quickly. Ten metres from the gate they found a large footprint, with three splayed talons forming the toes. Surrounding it were droplets of blood, showing bright red in contrast to the green carpet. Anderson could still hear the screams of Rodriguez in his mind, he had been replaying them ceaselessly since he had been killed. Anderson felt his stomach twist each time he saw the mental image of Rodriguez's eyes widening, and the fact that he had to watch the whole thing happen, helpless. Guiterrez walked forward, and left Anderson to inspect the print.

It was reminiscent of the Tyrannosaur footprints which he had seen earlier within the nest, but it was quite a bit smaller. It formed a lesser depression into the ground, as the animal was undoubtedly quite a bit lighter. Yet, even from the footprint he gained a feeling of a sizeable threat.

Anderson felt a great deal more cautious now that one of their party had been killed. He felt determined that there would be no further loss of life. The tree line lay exactly how it had been the night before, the foliage dancing innocently in the breeze, indifferent to the events that had transpired. Guiterrez was halfway between Anderson and the periphery of the jungle, and was continuing onwards, looking at the ground.

Looking down, Anderson saw that more footprints led away from the first, turning away from the direction of the maintenance shed, and heading towards the jungle. Many more droplets of blood accompanied the prints, in places there were arcs of bright red too, where Rodriguez had been slashed. But still, Anderson couldn't see the slumped shape of a body.

Guiterrez had stopped a few metres from the tree line, and was staring down at the ground in front of him. Anderson hurried to his side, and exhaled when he saw what Martin was staring at. The grass was torn up, and scattered everywhere, dark patches of wet earth showing through. Footprints matted the floor. All of it lay in a pool of congealed blood, bits of intestine and flesh bobbed around.

"Jesus," said Guiterrez.

"He'll be in there," said Anderson, looking towards the jungle. The footprints continued on, coupled with more blood streaks, into the trees in front of them.

Guiterrez nodded, and they both moved forwards, towards the forest, which appeared ever darker, and emanated the new chorus of sounds. These new sounds were slightly different from the ones that they had heard before, the animals were less active, and their song was relaxing, and oddly eerie.

Anderson stepped over the threshold into the jungle, followed by Guiterrez, looking carefully at the ground. It was extremely dark here, and Anderson had to turn on the light mounted to his rifle, casting a pool of bright light on the ground.

Rodriguez's body sat almost upright against a large tree trunk, staring sightlessly forwards. His torso had been torn and ripped apart; his chest cavity had been hollowed by the Metria. His left leg had been severed at the knee, and there were slashes all over his arms where he had tried to defend himself. His clothes were tattered, torn to shreds, one of his cheeks had been slashed, cutting through the flesh into his mouth.

Guiterrez had turned away, and gave a terrible gagging sound, bending over the underbrush.

Anderson reached forward gently, and closed Rodriguez's eyes, and sighed.

"We need to bury him, quickly," he said quietly.

Guiterrez stopped gagging long enough to spit out, "We're not taking him with us?"

Anderson shook his head. "We can't. As much as I hate to say it we can't afford anything that'll slow us down. And this is an active kill, the dinosaur will come back, and that's if other scavengers don't first. I think he'd much prefer we lay him to rest that to leave him for them. Anyway, we can't have them around here; we're leaving Malcolm here, and we don't want them prowling around."

Guiterrez nodded, and took the shovel which he had found in the shed and wedged between his pack and his body. He began digging a pit large enough to lay Rodriguez's remains in, making as little noise as possible while Anderson walked in wide circles around him, training his rifle at the surrounding jungle, watching out for signs of danger.

After ten minutes Guiterrez was panting, and had dug a hole four feet deep, and was covered in dirt. He climbed back out, and Anderson helped him to wrap Rodriguez's body within a long piece of cloth that they had found within the supplies in the shed. They did it carefully, trying not to move him too much, as the corpse was fragile in its massacred state. Together, glancing around ceaselessly, they lifted the bundle up and into the grave, laying it down gently.

They both crouched there for a moment, looking down at him.

"Should we say something?" asked Guiterrez.

Anderson nodded. After a moment, not knowing what to say, he simply said what came to his mind. "Rest in peace, Rodriguez. Know that you didn't die in vain. You have saved lives, and you'll never be forgotten."

He looked at Guiterrez, who nodded.

They both stood up, and turned to walk back to the shed. Anderson caught glimpse of one of the Microceratops leap from one of the branches high above the ground up ahead, flying across the gap within the trees, its glowing eyes turned into a streak of light.

"Did you find him?" asked Sarah as they slipped through the bars of the gate and into the shed, greeted by the familiar orange glow of the lighting strips. The shed was old, dank and leaking, but after venturing into the jungle for even such short a time caused it to feel cosy, a place of refuge.

"We found him. He was dead, we buried him," said Anderson, crossing the room towards Malcolm, looking down at him. He certainly wasn't getting any better; in fact he looked as if he was getting worse by the minute. Sarah bent down next to him, and soaked a cloth in water, laying it on his forehead. Malcolm groaned, and muttered something. She paused, listening.

"Sarah," he whispered.

She leant over him, and looked at him intently.

"Sarah," he whispered again, "should make...new ideas for your book."

Anderson raised one eyebrow, and looked at Sarah questioningly. "What's up with him?"

Sarah glanced at him. "I think he's dreaming. Or dreaming about a memory."

"A memory of what?"

Malcolm's head snapped sideways and then back to the centre. "This is gonna be bad," he whispered, and then jerked, as if receiving a shock.

"Definitely a memory," she said, rubbing the cloth over his forehead.

"Of what?"

"The last time we were on Isla Sorna. We were attacked by a pair of Tyrannosaurs while in our field trailer."

Anderson felt his eyes widen in surprise. "That must have been fun," he said, smirking a little.

Sarah gave him a look, and then turned back to Ian. He was sweating profusely, his skin was now almost completely lacking colour.

"Shouldn't the antibiotics be helping him?" he asked.

"Yes," said Sarah, coming over to him, "but they aren't. He's deteriorating, fast."

"Why?"

"I don't know, perhaps we injected them too late. Or maybe it's just not working. Or maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

She looked at him. "Maybe it's something else."

There was a trickling and splashing sound from one of the corners of the shed. They looked up, and saw Guiterrez upturning his water bottle on his head, washing the dirt from his face and body.

"Careful, don't waste it. You dehydrate easy here," said Sarah.

"I know, but we're heading back towards the lagoon, I can fill up there," he answered.

Anderson looked at Edgar, who sat quite still in the corner staring ahead, looking bored and sullen. He hadn't spoken a word to them since the night before, and nobody felt much like speaking to him either, since he showed no compassion for Rodriguez whatsoever. He hadn't even volunteered to look for the body.

Anderson turned away from them, and brought out his radio; it was time to check in with Tim and Wu. He twisted the dial on the side, and the power light flicked on, accompanied by a hiss of static.

"Tim?" he said, holding down the talk button.

There was a crackle, followed by. "Yeah, I'm here."

During the night Tim and Wu had managed to construct a roof over themselves in the tree by looping the branches and leaves above them together. They had only just avoided the worst of hypothermia. It was a good thing that the storm had only lasted around three hours.

"We'll be setting out to the lagoon at sunrise, which will be in around twenty minutes by the looks of it," said Anderson, looking around at the rest of the group, who all nodded, except for Sarah.

"That's fine," said Tim, "We've been on the lookout for any other dinosaurs in the area. We haven't seen anything so far. I think the Metriacanthosaurus has moved on, or maybe it doesn't hang around here at this time of day."

"Why would that be?" asked Anderson. It could have been his mind playing tricks on him, but he thought he had caught a slight edge to way Tim had said the last sentence.

"Well," said Tim, "that could mean that during the daytime this is something else's territory. What that might be I have no idea, but I'd rather get out of here sooner rather than later."

"So you're saying that something worse might live here in the day?"

"Not necessarily. It doesn't have to be larger or worse to cause the Metria to vacate the area. All animals respect each other's boundaries, smaller or larger."

"Still," said Anderson, "as you said, it'd be better to get out of here sooner rather than later."

"Agreed."

They agreed to schedule the next radio check-in an hour later, and then they turned the radios off. They would go back to the lagoon at sunrise, and head north to where the jungle river started. Then they would wait until the check-in. Meanwhile Tim and Wu would have to head north, towards the eastern garage. By Tim's estimates they should reach the control room at around the same time that he reached the garage.

"We can't leave him here," said Sarah. She was looking down at Malcolm, gently tipping some water into his mouth from her bottle.

"We have to, Sarah," said Guiterrez. "Don't worry, he'll be fine. Tim and Wu will pick him up."

"I'm not leaving him," she said strongly. Anderson saw immediately there would be no arguing with her. She was going to stay.

Guiterrez was nodding too. "If you want to stay, then stay. Malcolm needs medical attention anyway."

Anderson walked towards the front of the shed, and stood at the gate, looking out at the field. The Microceratops were still scampering around, but their eyes were no longer reflecting the light. The sky was now bright pink and orange, and the jungle now looked its usual green self. The trail of blood and footprints was clearly recognizable from his position, and he felt his stomach twinge again at the thought of Rodriguez. They needed to get moving. It was time to go.

Anderson sat down heavily on the beach of the lagoon, scattering an arc of sand down the shore. The wind lapped against his face as he watched the fiery golden orb of the sun slowly climb over the horizon, casting the clouds into silvery shadows against the brightly coloured sky. The waves of the lagoon lapped gently up the beach, the crystal clear water rippling and dancing. On the opposite shore the dinosaurs were emerging from the jungle, coming down for their morning drink. Even on their shore there was a pair of Gallimimus, dipping their long slender necks alternately. A pair of Pterosaurs swooped overhead suddenly, and squawked deafeningly, swooping down over the lagoon, gliding along. Anderson watched as they glided towards the surface, and dipped their beaks into the water, drinking as they continued to fly along. He looked at them with hatred; if it wasn't for them they'd be back home already with the cure and nobody would be any the wiser.

Edgar watched from behind him, inspecting them with a look of surprise and awe on his face.

"They're beautiful," he said quietly.

"So is a Tyrannosaurus," said Anderson, turning just in time to see the spasm of anger cross Edgar's face.

Guiterrez came up from the water line of the lagoon, screwing the top onto his water bottle, also glancing at the Pterosaurs with an ugly look on his face.

"I hate those things," he grated.

Anderson nodded. "We need to be careful from now on. We stick together, no detours, no unnecessary stops."

Guiterrez and Edgar nodded together. "It's a new day," said Guiterrez, "We can start over. A clean slate."


	35. Chapter 33: Airstrip

Chapter 33

**Airstrip**

"I never saw this place," said Wu as he and Tim emerged from the dense jungle onto the broken tarmac of the runway. The island's airstrip was in disrepair, rubble and creepers littered the surface of the runway. But even after over a decade Tim could still see that had still been under construction when the park was abandoned. The tarmac that had been laid thickly only covered three quarters of the long strip of jungle which had been cleared to form to the runway. Rusted steel poles and construction vehicles, including a large crane sat at the end of the clearing, exactly how they had been left. Looking up and down, Wu guessed that this airstrip was large enough to cater for aircraft the size of a moderately sized turbo-prop.

"I never saw it either," said Tim, stepping forward, his footsteps echoing in the clearing. It was deathly silent in the clearing, and their voices reverberated off the jungle periphery. It was spooky after being immersed in the sounds of the jungle for so long. But now even the jungle was silent and still.

In the early morning a light mist hung close to the ground, shrouding the entire area, giving everything a ghostly appearance. The sky above them was a dark blue, streaked with hints of orange. The sun was just beginning to break the tops of the mountains in the distance. The air was cool as Wu walked through the mist, the white wispy fog swirling and arcing gracefully away from him as he moved.

The jungle encroached ominously on all sides; in some places the trees overhung the runway, casting dark shadows over the blackened tarmac. Green shoots and vines stuck up all over the place, fighting their way through. To the right, set off to the side from the runway, there was a control tower, which stuck up around a hundred feet. It was small, and simple in appearance. It was speckled green with mold, and large chunks of the concrete had fallen away, cracks ran up its length. Large dishes and antennas protruded from the top. An area around the tower was layered with more concrete, and would have made a parking bay for aircraft. A long thin taxiway connected the terminal to the runway, lined with thin bright yellow lines.

"They never finished it," said Tim, walking along the edge of the jungle, heading north along the tarmac. "Just like most of the other things here."

"I never knew much about the day to day construction that was going on, I spent most of my time in the lab," some Wu, walking alongside him. "Looks like it would have been nice though."

"That's my grandfather for you; always thinking big."

Wu nodded, and looked around. "You can say that again."

"Why bother building it though?" said Wu. "The helipad and the docks were fine for getting people on and off the island."

"That was just to shuttle people to and from the mainland in Costa Rica. When the park opened it was expected that there would be a massive rush of visitors. People would want to fly in from all over the world, and they wouldn't want to come via Costa Rica."

"This island isn't big enough to have more than a few dozen visitors at a time. The Safari Lodge was only built to cater for that many," said Wu.

"Yes, but construction had already began on a large hotel. My grandfather wanted at least fifty visitors at a time on-island."

"This island is small…"

"Henry, think about it. Disney land is fifty square miles, and yes thousands of people pass through it every day. This island is no less than twenty-five square miles, and despite the task of getting people across an ocean, this island could easily have over a hundred people at a time."

A high pitched bark issued from the trees on the other side of the runway, in the jungle. Wu looked over at it cautiously, watching the still jungle, cloaked in fog.

"What do you think that was?" Wu asked.

Tim looked unconcerned and continued walking, further up the runway towards where the control tower was located.

"I don't know," he said, "it didn't sound big. Just keep moving, we can't afford any more stops. Most of the animals are nocturnal, and even the ones that aren't won't be up to doing anything much this early."

"That's speculation," said Wu, frowning at Tim. "You can't know that, nobody knows anything about these animals."

Tim whirled on him. "What do you want me to say?" he asked angrily. "If you want comfort, you're on the wrong damn island. Now keep moving and ignore the fucking noises."

Wu glanced at back at the source of the bark. "Better to be safe than sorry, Tim."

Tim snorted. "On this island, there is no such thing as safe."

Wu had to agree. During his working days on the island, when he had been working feverishly with his own team of skilled geneticists to exploit the revolutionary breakthrough that had been achieved, he had never been able to shake off a strange twist in his gut. The fact that they were genetically engineering primeval monsters from the past struck at times as an extremely foolish thing to do. Especially when he saw the leniency with which some of the other staff members treated the situation. He had been one of the advisors asked to draft a summary of what they deemed necessary within the security systems of the island.

Wu himself had reported that it would be best to clone perhaps half a dozen animals, and study them closely, under close observation. He had thought of it as only prudent that this be the case, the animals were literally unknown to modern science. They could have diseases, unpredictable behavior and reactions to the present world. The trees were different from their time, the animals were different, even the atmosphere was different. Any of these factors could have massive consequences for the dinosaurs.

But his recommendations were casually cast aside in favor of something far grander and adventurous. Members of the InGen board demanded that the technology be utilized to mass produce the animals, and ensure that as much money would be made from them as possible, as quickly as possible. And that, Wu found, was what the whole thing came down to; money. He found that his work wasn't for the good of mankind, it wasn't to further their understanding of the world around them. It was just another scheme, another plot, another venture. To make money.

The looks of those board member's faces would be forever imprinted on his mind when he told them the expected size and grandeur of these animals. He himself only saw the animals in their infancy, but even then he found himself staring at them with uneasy caution. There was something in their eyes, something missing. They were soulless, reptilian, and frightening, no matter how old they were. Especially the raptors. He had been to their holding pen once, on a lunch break. He had heard the construction workers talking about it in the dining hall, and there had been unmistakable fear in their voices. When he had looked down into the dense foliage from the platform, he had heard the snarling. He never saw them, only heard them. But it had been enough. They were murderers, quick and decisive.

Of course he had been ordered to put on his best smile and inform the visitors of the island about the brilliance of the technology by Hammond himself. But even through that he could see that some of them felt just as he did, even if it was subconsciously. He remembered the way Grant looked at him as he held the newly hatched Velociraptor. As wonderful as the animals were, there was something chilling about it. It was unnatural, defying Mother Nature.

When the first live birth occurred, the reality and gravity of what they were doing began to sink in, and at the same time it had also hit him that it was too late to stop. Even if he wanted to stop, and refused to continue, InGen would inevitably carry on his work, with somebody else. There was far too much money at stake. And Hammond's eccentricities would have won over any administration board; he was too cheerful for his own good.

An explosion of noise suddenly erupted from the jungle where the bark had emanated before. Thrashing and the snapping of twigs rang out. Wu and Tim span around to see the underbrush at the side of the jungle was shaking. A harsh scream tore through the air, agonized and terrified.

"What the hell?" whispered Wu.

Tim grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down into a crouching position, and they both stared at the thrashing of the foliage.

"So much for 'nothing will be up to doing much this early'," breathed Wu, glancing at Tim fiercely.

"Quiet," whispered Tim.

The screaming stopped abruptly, followed by a loud crack. The thrashing ceased, to be replaced by an endless, strained silence. Tim and Wu sat as still as possible, not even daring to breath. The silence seemed to invade Wu's body, and he felt his chest constrict, and the only sound was the roar of his own blood in his ears. The silence dragged on, and he felt his pulse quicken, his breathing become shallower.

The only thing that was moving was the light fog which floated aimlessly in every direction, disrupting his line of sight towards the trees.

Suddenly a something flashed past on the periphery of his vision. Giving a gasp of fright, Wu span his head just in time to see a ghostly figure disappear into the jungle on their side of the runway. Something had just run across the airstrip in front of them. It had been fast, too fast. He had the impression of a large reptilian body, and a long tail held high off the ground. And completely silent; there had been no patter of feet on the concrete, no vocalizations, nothing. It was creepy.

Wu looked at Tim, and instantly knew that he had also seen the figure.

"Did you see what it was?" Wu said as quietly as possible, trying not to move his lips too much.

Tim shook his head fractionally.

Wu looked around as quickly as possible, not moving his head, simply moving his eyes in his sockets as far as they would go. They couldn't be attacked now; they were completely exposed. The runway was well over forty meters across, and they were at least ten meters from the first of the trees.

"What do we do?" he whispered frantically.

Tim glanced at him, and then ever so slightly nodded his head forwards, towards the other end of the runway. Wu followed his nod, and saw that he was indicating the control tower. It was located right at the end of the runway, almost half a mile from where they were crouched. It looked secure and strong, made of thick concrete, like the geothermal plant. But if they broke cover now and ran for it, there was no way that they would make it there.

"We can't, it's too far," he whispered.

"No choice," murmured Tim.

A sudden splash from behind them floated across to them, and they both snapped around instinctively. A large puddle from the storm lay in a slight depression in the tarmac. Ripples were slowly and lazily coursing their way outwards towards the edge of the puddle; something had just stepped into it, moments before.

First in front of them, and now behind them. There was either more than one animal, or something was circling them. Stalking them. They were in trouble.

Tim was slowly rising from his crouch into a half-standing position, as if he were an athlete preparing for the starting pistol in the one hundred meters sprint.

Wu turned in a wide circle, his eyes darting from tree to tree, desperately trying to find the animal.

"You can stay here if you like, Henry," whispered Tim, breathing deeply, looking towards the control tower, "but I'm going for it."

Wu gave him a look. "As soon as we start running, we're done for."

"You stay here, you're dead anyway," said Tim.

In the silence of the jungle a single snarl broke through the fog like a hot knife through butter. And then the bushes at the side of the runway behind them shook.

"Now!" said Tim, and with a massive heave he soared from his position on the ground and sprinted towards the control tower.

A second later Wu ran after him, not knowing what else to do. There was no way he was going to be left behind, but he was also sure that they couldn't make it all the way to the control tower without being intercepted. After everything that had happened to them on this island the previous day, it would be foolish to entertain the notion of moving across the island undetected.

Tim was running flat out, his arms pumping, his legs a blur in front of Wu. Wu himself was marshalling all the strength he could muster, but he realized after only a few seconds that they could be easily outrun.

Another flash of movement to his left, and Wu caught a glimpse of a powerfully muscled hind limb, disappearing into the jungle.

He put on a spurt, his muscles screaming in protest. The world seemed to swirl around him as he broke out in a cold sweat, and he forced himself to run on.

Less than a minute later Wu watched as Tim sprinted around the side of the control tower, only a few meters in front of him. Wu rounded it after him a moment later, and found Tim tearing open a small steel door built into the concrete of the building. It didn't look anywhere near as strong as the door in the geothermal plant, but now he wasn't going to complain about a shelter.

Wu bounded forwards and flew through the threshold of the door, into deep darkness. Failing to stop himself for several more steps, carried forwards by his momentum, he heard Tim run towards the door and slam it shut. The small amount of light that had been filtering through the door was cut off suddenly, and they were thrown into perpetual darkness.

Wu doubled over, struggling to catch his breath. The room was cool and the air was damp. He could hear water trickling from a crack in the roof into a puddle on the floor somewhere deeper in the room. He had the sense of standing in a sizeable room, but he couldn't see a thing. There was no window in sight.

"Tim?" he said into the darkness, his voice echoing back to him.

"Here," said Tim, standing a few meters away, at the door.

"Do you hear anything out there?"

"No."

Slowly, Wu's eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he started to pick up faint details. He stood still and let them adjust, and slowly his mind began to build the picture of the room.

He was standing in the middle of a room twenty feet across. A metal, skeletal looking staircase lay against the wall to his left, stopping at a balcony ten feet up and continuing in the opposite direction out of sight onto the next level. A lift sat built into the wall underneath the balcony of the stairs, the doors glinting dully in the gloom.

"You see this stuff?" he said to Tim, who he guessed from the hunched shape of his silhouette had his ear pressed up against the door.

"Yeah. It's silent out there. I don't think we're in trouble, whatever that was, it wasn't big enough to knock this door in."

Wu looked at him. "That doesn't mean that it's safe to go back out. And there are no windows in here, we can't see out."

Tim's figure moved away from the door, further into the room. "No, not here, but there are upstairs."

Wu nodded, and moved towards the staircase. He saw that it had a distinct brown and orange tinge; it was heavily rusted. Which, he realized, was to be expected in the damp interior of the tower.

"Do you think there could be anything in here?" he asked as the possibility occurred to him suddenly.

He heard Tim scoff in the dark. "That door was shut, and there's no window down here. How could they get in?"

"Upstairs maybe…"

"So something scaled a one hundred foot wall and crawled inside?"

Wu shrugged, and moved forwards, and gripped the handrail. He could see that the steps of the staircase were grated, and that in some places they had begun to rust away.

Tim began climbing the steps, and his footfalls echoed with deep booms. The stairs creaked as Wu steps onto them, gripping the handrail to stop himself tripping.

He stepped onto the balcony and was about to begin climbing the next when the light filtering beneath the door dimmed for an instant, a shadow passing across it. He froze, Tim kept climbing above him, his footstep's booming slowly dying away.

He squinted at the door, not moving a muscle. It didn't happen again. Shaking his head, swearing to himself, he passed it off as his imagination playing tricks on him, and climbed after Tim.

Wu turned the door handle, which creaked loudly, and opened the thin wooden door which stood guard at the top of the stairs. They had climbed over ten flights of stairs, and several times their feet had fallen through the metal grating of the stairs. The hinges creaked, and a wide arc of detritus on the floor was cleared as the door opened. This room was much brighter, as faint sunlight was coming in through the glass windows which made up most of the opposite wall. The glass windows were weathered to the point of being translucent, but the room still had a pleasant orange glow. The room was lined with servers and computer consoles, which were all off and dead.

"Do you think that any of this stuff could be used to contact the mainland?" asked Wu, walking over a staring at one of the computers.

Tim sat down heavily on one of the old swivel chairs, and a cloud of dust was displaced into the air. "No, none of the equipment was ever brought online here. Anyway, the main power line that he activated doesn't run through here."

Wu shook his head, and walked towards the closest of the windows, and stared at it. He couldn't see through it at all.

"We wasted our time coming up here then," said Wu, just before Tim's leg came swinging out of nowhere and plunging through the pane of glass. It shattered with ease, and a shower of glass pieces fell away from the frame towards the ground below, clattering on the ground like a thousand Christmas bells.

Wu looked at him sharply, but Tim was already leaning out, looking down at the floor below. A light gust of wind blew in, ruffling their hair.

"Well, at least they know we're here now," said Wu.

Tim ignored him, and continued to look downwards, his head turning in a wide arc. Wu stepped back and let him look, eyeing him with cautious eyes. Tim seemed to have finally snapped, he was acting rashly.

"Doesn't seem to be anything out there," Tim said finally.

Looking out, Wu saw that the sun was now stronger, higher in the sky, and that the fog close to the ground was beginning to evaporate.

"How long until we reach the garage?" Wu asked.

"Another three hours maybe, if we're lucky."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"As in, if nothing goes wrong. But by this point I'm going to assume that something is going to go wrong."

Wu sighed, and sat down in another of the chairs, which had a large chunk of foam missing from the seat.

"What do you think it was, out there?" he asked. "It was about six feet tall, right? I saw a big tail and back legs."

"I don't know," said Tim with an edge to his voice which indicated the contrary. He stalked across the room towards the door. "The coast is clear, let's get moving."

Wu turned in the swivel chair, resting his head on one of his hands and frowned. "What's going on Tim? You know something."

Tim froze at the threshold of the doorway, and looked over his shoulder. "I don't follow you," he said hollowly.

"Enough games, I'm done with half truths. What's out there?"

Tim's hand gripped the door, sliding up and down nervously. "I don't know."

"What's out there?" shouted Wu, standing up angrily.

Another snarl rose up from the ground below, and Tim turned around to look him in the eye. "You know what's down there. And it's not going away. Now quit playing and get your ass moving. We have work to do."


	36. Chapter 34: Awakening

Chapter 34

**Awakening**

Dodgson lifted his head fractionally from its resting place, and groaned in pain. The world was spinning crazily, and he felt his stomach cringe as nausea crashed over him. He lay as still as possible, struggling with the internal battle to keep himself from throwing up. His head throbbed steadily, sending pulses of pain through his skull, blocking all thought from his mind.

Slowly, the urge to be sick dissipated, and he hesitantly opened his eyes slightly. Bright yellow sunshine met his corneas as his eyelids retreated, and he gave an involuntary exhale as drumbeats of pain burst into the back of his eyes, causing spots of color to dance into his field of vision.

He realized that he must be on his back, as the light was shining directly downwards. Dimly he became aware of black patterns in the light, squiggling randomly across the brightness. Somewhere in the back of his mind a small voice told him that he was staring at the canopy of a tree.

His vision sharpened, the blurry shapes coming into focus, and he saw that he was right. He was looking up at the sky, which was a dim blue, dotted with thin streaks of cloud cover. It looked as if it was just after dawn. The tips of twigs and leaves above were waving in the light breeze, and the song of tropical birds floated down to him, mixed in with the chorus of insects. Far off to the left there was an otherworldly chirruping which he didn't recognize.

It was pleasantly warm, the sun heating his skin, and he guessed it was early morning.

Dodgson frowned slightly at the canopy of the tree. It was too low. The far reaches of the canopy above him were only around fifteen feet up.

He was lying on something rough, and oddly shaped, bumpy in places. It wasn't soft like he expected the ground to be. He was lying in a tree.

But how did he get here? He couldn't remember at all. In fact he couldn't remember anything that had happened to him before meeting Rossiter.

He sat up in a sudden fit of panic, and screamed as bolts of white hot pain thundered down his spine. He collapsed back onto the branch he lay on in agony, his eyes closed tight, gritting his teeth. His entire body ached, and he felt his muscles tighten against the pain.

"Jesus Christ," he gasped.

He waited for a minute until the pain subsided, and he felt strong enough to try again.

Carefully, and gently, he sat up as slowly as his body would allow, grunting against the shooting pains that erupted from every conceivable place.

Eventually he reached a sitting position, breathing shallowly, and looked down at himself. His clothes were tattered, and a large rip ran from his right shoulder down across his chest, the cloth frayed and dotted with blood. It looked as if he had been bleeding, but the blood was tinged brown, suggesting it had dried quite some time ago.

He was soaked through. His legs and chest felt damp, his clothes clinging to his skin. Even his hair was wet. He lifted his hands from the branch and saw that the bark of the wood was also wet. It must have rained here…wherever here was.

He lifted his head, and looked around him. He sat on a thick branch of a large tree well over sixty feet high. Other trees surrounded him on all sides. Sunlight broke through the thick canopy above, forming shafts of bright orange that formed intermittently around him. Below him, there was nothing for over twenty feet before a layer of thick underbrush concealed his view of the floor.

He must be in a jungle somewhere near the equator. Perhaps he was in the Amazon or on a Caribbean island. But how he had managed to get here, he had no idea. It didn't make sense.

Suddenly the world span again, and he felt bile slide up from his stomach. He leant over to the side, and vomited onto the ground below. He groaned weakly, and found that he was losing his balance. He tried to grip the branch with his legs and hands, but found that his muscles only responded feebly, and that he was sliding sideways from the bark. With a yell his body tumbled from its position on the branch and fell towards the ferns lining the floor.

He crashed through the underbrush, and impacted the ground with a dull thud. As soon as his head touched the floor pain streaked through his body again, and he felt the walls of his lungs slap together as he was winded, the air inside him flying out through his mouth as he tried to shout out.

He lay there on the ground for a moment, flailing his arms noiselessly as he tried desperately to drag air back into his lungs.

Gradually his chest re-inflated, and he sucked in as much as he could. Ferns smothered him on all sides, and he found that it was unpleasantly hot on the ground. Mud was splattered all over his body. His hands felt wet and slippery.

Gritting his teeth, and bracing himself against the pain, he forced himself onto his knees, which screamed in protest. But he ignored the sensation of being stabbed with a hot knife, and pulled his left leg so that his foot was pushing against the ground. With a heave he pushed himself to a stand.

His head rose only a foot over the tips of the ferns, and with a groan of annoyance he cast the closest of them aside, ripping them up.

A slight vibration caused him to pause. He didn't know what had made it, or why it caused him to stop. But stop he did; and he found himself listening with apprehension.

The vibration came again a second later, running up his legs through the ground. He found himself break out in a cold sweat, yet his mind remained blank.

What could it be? Perhaps a piece of machinery…

It came again, stronger this time. He saw the ferns around him visibly quiver. He frowned.

An ear splitting, powerful roar suddenly tore through the jungle. It was terrifying; unlike anything he had ever heard. It sounded like an animal, a massive animal.

A flashing sequence of images suddenly appeared before his eyes. The boat, Edgar, the trailer, the Gallimimus, the Tyrannosaurus.

"Son of a bitch," he whispered to himself as everything came rushing back to him. It had hit him with its tail, and he had flown into the jungle. He must have hit the tree and lost consciousness. And now it was morning; he must have lay there in the tree for the whole night.

He had no idea how far the Tyrannosaur had thrown him, nor did he have any idea of the exact time. Looking up for a moment, he guessed roughly from the position of the sun in the sky that it was somewhere around nine o'clock.

Another vibration ran through the ground, and this time his legs wobbled violently. The Tyrannosaur was coming back; he had to get out of here, now.

He turned in a circle. One his left was a steep slope, running uphill for quarter of a mile, where the crest of a hill formed. To his right the ground continued to slope downwards.

He wasn't strong enough to climb the slope, and he needed to get away fast. The vibration ran through the ground again, followed by a low growl.

The car must be nearby, but he knew that it must be at the top of the hill. The Rex couldn't have thrown him twenty feet up into the trees while also throwing him uphill. He'd have to go downhill for now and circle around back to it.

The trees behind him further uphill suddenly began to shake, and the floor shook again, this time accompanied by a deep booming sound.

Dodgson turned and ran on rubbery legs downhill, stepping as carefully as possible, his body begging him to stop as his muscles were stretched and pulled. Pumping his arms determinedly, he put one foot in front of the other, casting aside the largest of the ferns with his hands.

The slippery mud made running difficult, and he found himself struggling to keep his footing. Droplets of water from the rainwater flew from the underbrush onto his face, making him sticky and filthy in only a few seconds.

The Tyrannosaur roared again began him, and he put on a spurt, dashing downhill. Slowly his legs became stronger, and he was able to maintain his balance easier. He stumbled sideways as a large tree trunk loomed out of the ferns, and then the floor was gone.

His legs continued to make running motions through the air for a few moments as his body flew downwards. He wind milled his arms frantically as he saw that the muddy ground gave way to a seventy foot cliff. As he fell he saw that the jungle continued below. All around him vines dangled from a large tree overhanging the cliff, forming a miniature jungle of vertical ropes. Directly below him a small stream dotted with jagged rocks gurgled softly. If he hit one of the rocks he would be killed.

His body tumbled helplessly through the air, and he fell head over heels, shouting wordlessly. His hand brushed up against one of the vines, and he gripped it instinctively. His hand burned fiercely as he his momentum forced him to slide along the vine for another five feet, the friction searing his palm. He stopped with a jolt, dangling from the vine.

Looking up at the edge of the cliff, he swore to himself. He was thirty feet from the lip of the muddy cliff top, but still forty feet from the ground below. He'd have to climb down and move along the edge of the cliff until he could find a way back up to the car.

Suddenly there was a chirp, and the leaves of the nearest tree shook. A small Dinosaur hopped out onto a branch which extended to within ten feet of him. It was small, maybe the size of a cat. It was greenish brown in coloration, with black striations running along the flanks of its back. Its face was bony, a frill stuck out from its scalp, and its mouth formed into a sharp beak, like a parrot's.

It ran easily along the branch, and skipped off, onto one of the vines next to him. It swung effortlessly sideways, gripping the vine with its hands and feet, eyeing him curiously.

It didn't look threatening; in fact it looked quite cute. Its large eyes stared at him ceaselessly, reminding him of the fascinated stare that human infants had in their earliest years.

"What do you want?" he breathed at the small dinosaur.

At his voice the dinosaur shifted the angle of its head, and chirped playfully.

"Go on, get outta here," Dodgson said, and hissed at the animal. "Go on now, get!"

The dinosaur squeaked, and with extreme agility and speed it leaped through the air from its position on the vine, and back into the jungle, disappearing from fright.

"Yeah, that's right," said Dodgson, smirking after the animal, just as a single snorting exhale floated down to him, ruffling his hair.

Dodgson froze, and closed his eyes, and mouthed a stream of swear words. The snorting sound came again, and this time he felt a sudden wet splat on top of his head. A warm liquid ran down his forehead, onto the bridge of his nose. He moved his hand to his head, and then pulled it away, inspecting it.

Saliva.

Ever so slowly, he tilted his head upwards, and looked at the lip of the cliff above him.

A Tyrannosaur stood motionless twenty feet above, staring down at him. It was perched like a lion ready to pounce, its head several feet lower than the edge of the cliff. It was leaning over, and he was surprised that the animal managed to maintain its balance and keep its feet planted as firmly on the ground as they were, until he saw the long tail snake through the air behind its head. The eyes swiveled in the sockets, looking at him coldly. The massive jaws hung open, saliva dripping in large globs from its fangs.

The Rex growled down at him; a long, low, menacing snarl.

Dodgson's heart was beating savagely against the walls of his chest, and his grip on the vine was now vice-like. But he could see that there was no way for the Tyrannosaur to reach him.

"You want me, you toothy son of a bitch?" he said to the Tyrannosaur, "you're gonna have to come down here and get me."

The Tyrannosaur took a single breath, and roared explosively. The sound hit him like a solid wall, and he could feel the raw power of the animal from the sheer quantity of air that soared from its chest cavity. It sent splinters into his soul; it was a scream from the past, another world. The roar left his ears ringing, his head swimming. His hair was blown up, and he smelt rotting flesh on its breath.

Dodgson stared at the Rex insolently, and began to slowly edge his way down the vine. There was no way it could follow him, and jumping would easily kill it.

At the sight of its quarry escaping, the Tyrannosaur snapped its jaws shut, and stamped its foot in fury. It roared again, but seemed unsure of what to do. It lunged down at him, and snapped its jaws, but it remained well over ten feet above him.

"Sayonara, sucker," said Dodgson, and began to slide downwards, towards the ground below.

The Rex roared at him again, and then, to his horror, bit the vine which he was swinging from. He hung in the air for a moment, and his eyes widened as he began to fall helplessly once more.

"Oh shiiittt!" he yelled as he fell, flying down towards the ground. The Tyrannosaur roared in anger at the sight of him escaping. His body twisted as it fell, and now he was falling head first towards the stream. A sudden jolt which almost broke his leg brought him to another stop, twelve feet from the ground.

He groaned in pain, and turned, looking up. The Tyrannosaur was now almost sixty feet above him, eyeing him malevolently against the sky, its jaws working.

What had caught him was another one of the vines, which had looped around his left ankle. But, to his displeasure, he saw that it was already beginning to stretch, and would snap any second.

He sighed, and looked down at the stream, which flowed peacefully, indifferent and innocent. His vine lay curled in the water, already being swept away.

"This isn't happening," he murmured to himself as the vine tangled around his ankle broke and he went flying towards the floor.


	37. Chapter 35: Malcolm

Chapter 35

**Malcolm **

"You know Sarah, life is such an amazing thing," said Ian dreamily, looking up at the ceiling of the maintenance shed as if it were telling him all the secrets of the universe.

"How's that Ian?" asked Sarah warily, sitting on her knees at the side of his makeshift bedding, soaking a flannel with her water bottle. 

Malcolm had regained consciousness ten minutes before, groaning in pain and breathing shallowly. She could tell from his incomprehensible mutterings that his condition hadn't changed since his last brief moment of lucidity, but this time he seemed to be fully awake for the first time since the day before. 

Sarah didn't know what else to do with him; she was qualified to treat animals, and had been sufficiently experienced in field medicine to treat most injuries and ailments. But she wasn't a medical doctor, she was a scientist. And none of the others seemed to know what was wrong with him either. She could only hope that help would arrive on the island before his condition became any worse. Not knowing what else to do, she had given him a shot of morphine which Anderson had left with her. 

Malcolm seemed to welcome the drug, and she had a suspicion that it wasn't just for the relief of the pain. She had seen him on morphine several years before, on more than one occasion, and she was sure that he somewhat enjoyed it. His ramblings never ceased while he was drugged like he was now, nor did they ever wander from being riddled with chaos theorems and mixed with other sentences with were completely nonsensical. 

Within minutes of receiving the injection he had begun to sing merrily, adding his own lyrics to several tunes. And now he was remarking on life, and she was sure that they were about to launch into a conversation that only he would understand fully.



"Because, Sarah," whispered Ian, giggling slightly, as if he were telling her a great secret, "it's such a wonderful subject to study. So full of chaos. It's a miracle that it exists at all."

Sarah nodded as she laid the dripping flannel across his forehead, causing Ian to sigh contentedly. "I've heard this before, Ian," she said, "you've always said how life is just as unpredictable as any complex system. And that we're powerless to control it."

"Yes, Sarah," said Ian, opening his eyes wider for a moment, and gripping her coat loosely with one hand, while pointing at her with the other. "That's just it. We've seen it happen over and over. We lock animals up in zoos, thinking that we have complete control over them, and we never doubt ourselves or falter in our arrogance. But the animals escape all the time. Elephants and moose are easily the greatest jail breakers of all time; they unlatch fence gates with apparent ease. Yet the owners of these zoos never change the designs of these cages, they just shove them back in their cage and wait for it to happen again. And why does this continue to occur? Because we assume that no animal can possibly rival the ingenuity and mental prowess that we possess. People pass it off as pure chance, a freak accident that the animals managed to free themselves. But it happens all over the world. And none of these animals have ever seen it happen. They were never taught to do so by an elder. They figured it out for themselves."

"Yes, I can see your point—"

"Environmentalists are another example," continued Malcolm as if Sarah hadn't said anything. "They claim to be fighting for the earth, to save it from the evil destructive forces of man. But as good as their intentions may be, they have no idea what they're doing, nor do they comprehend the complexity of the systems that they interfere with. And most of them never even bother to try, because as with all human conceptions, they are brainwashed by the social collective into thinking that by adopting that poor baby koala bear that they're saving the world."

"So, what are you saying? We shouldn't try?" asked Sarah, more than a little offended at Ian's blatant attack on the 

conservationist community that she had spent most of her adult life an active part of in Africa.

"No, no," said Malcolm with a small cough, "not at all. Look, take a basic food chain. Say you have a field of grass, and you put two dozen Rabbits in it, and they feed on the grass. And within this area you also have two Hawks. Now, the Rabbits will feed on the grass, and the Hawks will feed on the Rabbits. But the amount of Rabbits in the field ensures that the amount of the grass in the field stays almost the same; there aren't enough Rabbits to eat all of the grass, but there are enough to keep it in check, to stop it growing out of control. And the same is true with the Hawks; there are only enough of them to keep the Rabbit population from growing by too much, but there are never enough Hawks to kill of all of the Rabbits. Nature, it seems, creates its own equilibrium."

Sarah was nodding. What he was saying was taught in schools throughout the world, but she wasn't sure whether what he was saying had any significance, or whether it was simply the ravings of his drugged mind. 

"But suppose that one of the Hawks came down with a sickness, or it broke its leg. Surely, in order to maintain the equilibrium, and to protect the Hawk as a species, it's only prudent for us to intervene, to help it. Right?"

"Right."

"Wrong," said Malcolm, eyeing her with distant disappointment through glazed eyes. He shifted his position on the floor slightly, and groaned as his leg moved like a dead weight. Sarah held it steady gently, and moved it back towards its original position. 

"What do you mean?" she asked, sitting back and resting her head against one of the boxes that littered the floor. 

Malcolm licked his lips, and continued in a determined voice, as if giving a lecture to an ignorant class of schoolchildren. "This natural equilibrium has been maintained for billions of years, and it happens without any outside intrusion whatsoever. It's a perfect balance, sensitive to any form of tampering. As soon as we blunder our way into the system and start introducing new variables, the entire system is more than likely to collapse."



Sarah shook her head. "You're losing me. How is that possible?" he said. "You'd give the bird a shot of antibiotics, or set its leg, release it back into the wild and everything would be the same as it always has been."

"That's what we'd like to believe," said Malcolm, nodding faintly, "but in practice, that is rarely the case. If you help that Hawk, then you interrupt nature's course of action."

"But surely if it had died then the Rabbit population would grow out of control, and eat all of the grass," said Sarah.

"Ah yes, of course. But you are forgetting that this is a mere pinprick. This is one single food chain. If that Hawk had died, then a cat, or a fox, or some other predator would take its place. Now, the Rabbit population may increase slightly, and the grass might decrease, but the system would recover. It's a perfect system of evolutionary precision. Built over billions of years. And we know so little, yet we assume that we have the power to 'save' nature."

"So we sit back and watch as species become extinct?" said Sarah.

Ian paused for a moment, and took a deep breath. After a few seconds, he nodded slowly. "Until we can fully appreciate the complexity of the systems in which we aim to control, yes, we watch."

"How can you say that we, say let the Rhinoceros go extinct?" Sarah said in indignation. 

"Sarah, species have been going extinct since the beginning of life. In actual fact over ninety nine percent of every species that has ever lived is now gone. And yet, life remains. Why? Because that is Nature's way. If an animal can adapt no further to the ever changing environment, then it will be weeded out, in favor of a more adapted species. If we change that, we can cause things to happen that we can never predict."

"Like what?"

"Say we save all these wonderful animals from going extinct. What then? Do these animals require any further adaptation in order to survive? Are the weaker ones weeded out in favor of the strongest? No. We will, in essence, render evolution inert."



"Is that a bad thing?"

"When you think about it at first it doesn't sound so bad, does it? We can create a world free from competition, from damnation. But think to yourself, what happens when we're no longer here to play the caretaker?"

Sarah sighed, and closed her eyes. He was being arrogant now, and she could see that in this state there wouldn't be room for her side of the debate. Although, she had to admit that during these conversations Ian always displayed a notion which pertained to thought beyond thinking. He saw things that she had never thought of. 

"Babe…" Malcolm began to sing merrily, "I got you babe…" He then receded into humming the song's tune incessantly, looking back up at the ceiling. 

"What's your point in all this?" Sarah asked, trying to pass the time by keeping the conversation going.

"My point is Sarah," said Malcolm, resuming his determined tone immediately, "is that we think that we know more than is actually possible. This island displays a perfect example of just that. The men who created this island never stopped to think that what they were setting out to do; to re-create a horde of animals that have never been seen, heard or touched by anybody, that we know absolutely nothing about. They never stopped once to consider the fact that what they were doing would inevitably lead to disaster. Because they never expected that the dinosaurs would display intelligence of their own, nor did they have any idea of the limitations of any intelligence which that might be. They simply released them into their pretty little paddocks and set to work on creating the next batch of animals. They didn't study each animal, document its behavior, its habits, its social structure. None of it. And they therefore threw away any chance that they may have had in truly controlling any of them."

"Human beings are the first sentient animals to inhabit this planet, which we know of. Within thirty thousand years we have gone from a hunter gatherer species living in caves and living in fear of everything, to farming, to the Pyramids, to the industrial revolution, to the atomic bomb, to the computer, to the moon. All of it occurring with exponential speed. Two 

hundred years ago if you had told somebody that you wanted to built a flying machine capable of crossing the Atlantic Ocean everybody would have laughed rancorously, and promptly announced you insane. Now, it's hard for people not to imagine the convenience of passenger airliners. One hundred years ago, if you had asked somebody to work out a complex mathematical equation, they would have had to grab a pencil or a piece of chalk. Now, everybody has a computer in their homes capable of working it out in a second."

"And this means?" asked Sarah.

"We are now entering the age of biotechnology, quantum mechanics, nanotechnology, etcetera, and etcetera. All of this is projected to have had an adverse affect on everybody's lives within the next decade."

"We have all of this right now. Isn't that enough just to save a few animals?" asked Sarah pleadingly.

"My point exactly Sarah. We have all this right now. All the technology we could ask for. But that's not enough to do what we would like. At the exponential rate in which we're advancing, we'll be experimenting with quantum computers in just a few years. All this, right now. Imagine what we'll have tomorrow. If we have the mind to wait, just wait, then we might be able to do the right thing for once, when we're ready."


	38. Chapter 36: Jungle River

Chapter 36

**Jungle River**

It was almost ten in the morning, and the sun had now cleared the distant mountain tops, and the sky had resumed its beautiful light blue glow. A few light clouds streaked in thin lines across the North West portion of the island, and although the fog around the jungle had now dissipated, evaporated by the sun, it could still be seen heavily cloaking the mountain sides, giving them an eerily dangerous look.

The jungle was still quiet in the late morning; the orchestra of insects and frogs was dulled and muffled. The air was still as humid as ever, but it was still relatively pleasant; the freshness left by the fog still had a cooling effect. 

Dozens of dinosaurs had broken the cover of the trees to come down for a morning drink, although they all seemed to be herbivores. And even these seemed less active than they had been the day before; they were slower, moving sluggishly, like office workers driving to work during the morning traffic rush.

The lagoon surface ran flat and lazily for hundreds of meters, stretching across the island surface for almost a mile, the glimmering expanse reflecting the surrounding jungle and the cloud streaked sky. But here the reflection in the water became blurred, streaked with ripples. Water was flowing away from the main body of the lagoon, downstream towards the ocean in the north. The water was draining down a small river which began immediately after the jungle canopy overshadowed the ground at this part of the lagoon. The sound of trickling water filled the air, the atmosphere more humid.

"So this is the jungle river, huh?" said Anderson, stopping at the shoreline, his feet slowly sinking into the wet sand. 

"Looks like it," said Guiterrez, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun by cupping his hand of his forehead. 

Edgar stood, watching them both awkwardly, standing a few feet away from them. He still didn't feel welcome with these people, and they didn't seem to appreciate his company 

either. But he'd rather be with them than by himself at the moment, or Dodgson. He resented that Dodgson would have left him just like that, and Edgar had always told him that the plan was flawed, doomed to fail. But he hadn't listened, he had just blundered on. And now because of him Edgar was stuck on this island with a group of people that he would have called his 'enemies' beforehand. And he still had no idea what they were up to.

Suddenly the bushes to their right shook vigorously, the canopy swaying from side to side, and the sound of approaching heavy footfalls filled their ears. A snuffling sound floated over to them, accompanied by the snap of twigs and the rustle of leaves. 

Beside him Edgar saw Anderson spin around and pull his rifle to his shoulder, his finger on the trigger. All three of them stood there in silence, and watched the bush shake, ready to run at a moment's notice. 

A pair of Parasaurolophus emerged from the jungle, honking and snuffling. Thirty feet long and fifteen feet tall, they were truly impressive animals to look at. Their feet splayed out widely as their immense weight bore down on them, and their leg muscles bulged and moved seamlessly beneath the leathery flesh. They stopped momentarily to observe the three humans that stood stationary at the water's edge. They cocked their heads, staring with alternating eyes. Edgar noticed that they didn't seem to appear too intelligent, more like big sheep. 

After a few seconds the Parasaurolophus looked at each other, and then honked mournfully. Then they simply turned left, and trudged their way over to the shoreline a few meters from where Edgar stood, their footprints massive in the crystal white sand. They dipped their large duck-like heads towards the surface of the cool, clear water, and dipped their mouths below the waterline. Edgar watched as their jaws began working, and their throats began contracting rhythmically as they drank huge mouthfuls. The long tails of each animal swung back and forth twenty five feet in the air, making waves of cool air wash over Edgar, ruffling his clothes and hair. 



He couldn't help but smile at the majesty of the animals. They were miracles of nature; it was hard to believe that the world was once full of animals like this. All that he had been led to believe, all his life, about the massive size of Elephants, Giraffes and Rhinos. These two animals seemed to push it all from his mind. The mammals of the earth may be magnificent things, but he could see that they didn't hold a candle to what the lizards had achieved. 

"Wow," he sighed, looking up at them. 

He then looked across to the opposite shore, and saw that dinosaurs were everywhere. Hundreds of them, all coming down to drink. Small ones, no bigger than a cat, medium ones the size of horses, to massive long necked ones the size of a four story building. All different sizes, shapes and colors. 

"It's unbelievable," Edgar whispered. 

He turned to see that Guiterrez and Anderson were eyeing him with new respect, as if they were finally seeing him in one new way. Anderson had put his rifle back onto his shoulder, and was looking across at the dinosaurs with a distant appreciation. Guiterrez however was looking at them with the same amazed stare that Edgar himself felt.

The Parasaurolophus honked a final time, and, keeping their eyes fixed on the three humans, turned and walked along the shore, towards the Jungle River. 

Beside him Edgar saw Anderson take out his radio and flick it on, and he faintly heard a crackle of static hiss into the air. The Parasaurolophus disappeared into the dense jungle within a few more steps, becoming invisible once more. 

"Tim," said Anderson quietly into the radio, "are you there?"

There was a hiss of static, and a moment later Tim's voice said, "What is it?"

"We're at the lagoon; we've found the Jungle River."

"Good. Follow that for around five miles."

"How long do you expect that to take us?" asked Guiterrez with indignation.

"Should take around three hours without Malcolm," said Tim, who himself sounded as if he was moving through dense vegetation. 

"We better get moving then. How's it going on your end?"



Tim grunted over the radio, and then Edgar heard Henry swear angrily. "We're moving through a bunch of vines at the moment, but we're making good time. We should be at the garage in about four hours."

"Right. Say, there are a lot of animals drinking right now, but no carnivores. Why not?"

"Oh, they'll be there soon enough."

"Where are they now?"

"Still hunting probably…"

"Great. Check in with us in another hour."

"Alright. Oh, Anderson, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Don't follow the riverbank. Stay at least fifty meters away if you can help it."

Anderson frowned, and looked at Guiterrez, then Edgar. "Why?" he said into the radio.

"Because it's a prime location to set up an ambush. Just, stay as quiet as possible and as far from the bank as you can without losing it and you should be fine."

Anderson shook his head. "Comforting," he said to himself. "Alright, Mr. Murphy, Anderson out." 

Anderson turned the dial on his radio, and changed channels. 

"Sarah?" he said.

That radio crackled, and then a tired sounding Harding answered him "Yes?" she said. She sounded as if she had been harassed. 

"You okay?"

"We're fine. Ian is awake," she said. She sounded almost resentful towards the last part.

"How is he?"

"He's speaking a lot. But his wound's just the same."

Edgar saw Anderson nod. "Just keep him talking; we'll get help as soon as possible."

"Right," she said, sighing, "keep him talking. Will do."

The radio clicked, and went silent. Anderson turned it off and clipped it back onto his belt, and then un-shouldered his rifle, and headed for the trees to the right of where the Jungle River started. 



Edgar didn't much fancy going back into the jungle any time soon. In fact, he never wanted to go back into it again. The venture into the Tyrannosaur nest had removed any desire he had ever felt towards the beauty of the lush tropical rainforest. Now, as he approached the darkness that cloaked the ground below the canopy high above, he felt an odd foreboding feeling encroach on him, and he was sure that this was going to an eventful few hours whichever way it went. 

But, if this is what got him home, then so be it. He was up for a little walk. And here, with these people, he found himself wondering whether he could do more for BioSyn that he even could have done before. 


	39. Chapter 37: Perimeter

Chapter 37

**Perimeter**

Tim and Wu had fought their way through the dense jungle for well over an hour since they had left the airstrip behind. They were both fast becoming exhausted; neither of them had eaten anything decent for a day, and due to the amount of sweat that they were producing they were fast becoming dehydrated too. Coupled with the lack of a good night's sleep, they were finding it increasingly more difficult to keep their progression from slowing. But Tim was determined to make it to the eastern garage on time; he had to get to the visitor centre with the others as soon as possible. He could tell the others over the radio how the system worked, but the truth was that he and Wu were the only ones who knew how to operate the park systems, and at the present time they were walking in the wrong direction into an area that he remembered all too well was swarming with dinosaurs. Anderson, Guiterrez and Edgar could probably secure the area and make sure that everything was still operational by themselves, but if he and Wu couldn't get over there then they had come all of this way for nothing. Thousands, perhaps millions of lives depended on their success here, and he wasn't going to give up. He didn't actually know if they did have enough time to complete their mission; he was sure that the Costa Ricans were doing everything within their power to cover up what was happening on the mainland, and despite the fact that he had kept the status of Isla Nublar a secret from them, he was sure that they would be able to figure it out in due time. And an entire fleet of vessels was stationed only 80 miles to the south-west, guarding the Las Cinco Muertes island chain, and it would take no time at all for them to move up to Nublar, and discover the truth.

The truth was that he had promised his Grandfather that he would protect his creations, but now that he was here once again he didn't feel as compassionate towards them as he once did. They were monsters, no matter what his grandfather would have had everybody believe. Once they had retrieved 

the DX virus data from the system, he didn't much care for what happened to the animals. In fact he felt quite sure that he would have to alert the mainland as quickly as possible. At the very least the island must be quarantined to limit further infection.

When they had left the Control tower of the airstrip, they had found the tarmac deserted, and silent. The mist that had cloaked the ground before had almost evaporated, and the jungle was now clearly visible. But it was oddly quiet. The chorus of insects and frogs that before had only been muffled had been completely absent. It was completely silent on the airstrip. And despite his best efforts to shake it off, he had gained the distinct feeling that they hadn't been alone in the vast expanse of the clearing in which they stood. Like they were being watched.

Whether Henry had felt it or not he didn't know, but he didn't show any signs of sensing anything. From then they had headed north into the jungle once more. By the time Anderson had contacted them to inform them that they had reached the Jungle River, they had entered a large forest of tangled vines. It had slowed them considerably, and as Anderson had the machete, they had no easy way of clearing their path. Several times they had both become hopelessly entangled; at one point it had taken them over ten minutes to free themselves. Luckily nothing seemed to inhabit that particular area, for reasons that Tim could appreciate. All of the animals seemed to have learned long ago that the vines were a hopeless area to live in.

Except, of course, to his extreme displeasure, the Microceratops. They had appeared in the treetops a little over five minutes after they had entered the vine forest. The animals seemed to be ever present on the island; there was either a very large population of them, or they simply were bemused by the humans and were able to move far quicker and easier through the trees than they could. He suspected the latter as the more likely possibility, but they were a constant source of annoyance and distraction. They chattered to each other constantly, and the crashing sounds that they caused by moving across the canopy could have attracted 

unwanted attention, or worse, blocked out the noise of approaching danger.

After around forty minutes they had left the vines behind, and had entered an area of sparse forest. It was different from the jungle on most of the island, the trees were wider apart, and the underbrush was almost completely absent, with only a few ferns dotting the ground. It was a pleasant change from the closed in confines that they had become accustomed to. The air was clearer and cooler, and they were able to enjoy a slight breeze that licked its way through the spaces in between the trees, listening to the chorus of the jungle around them.

Now, the thin jungle looked as if it was thinning even more, as if they were coming to its edge. The sunlight was becoming stronger, poking through the canopy in great golden shafts. It must have been almost half ten in the morning, and the sun was now high in the sky. The fog that had cloaked the ground earlier in the morning was now completely gone, and the air was beginning to heat up around them. Tim could feel his sweat glands coming back to life, and he felt the now familiar unpleasant sensation of being damp all of the time.

That was the problem with tropical heat, he thought. Sweat never dried, and therefore never cooled you. It just sat on your skin.

They were now both beginning to breath heavier and heavier as the humidity began to go up as the sun evaporated the water from the storm the previous night, and Tim could see the jungle steaming around him, rising up into the canopy and into the sky. It looked cool, yet eerie. Just like everything else on this island.

Off to their left a honking sound blasted through the trees, mournful and resonant, accompanied by the distant sounds of cracking twigs and branches.

"Is that it?" asked Wu, pointing ahead of them, through the sparse vegetation.

Tim looked up, and saw the patches of grey that were showing through the carpet of greenery. Squinting, he saw that at ground level the grey was made up of a thick concrete slab which rose five feet into the air. Higher up, there were 

thick steel spires, topped with two lights, one blue, and one red. Filling the space in between the spires were wires which ran horizontally across, spaced around a foot apart vertically. The structure was impressive, and towered over thirty feet into the air.

It was the perimeter fence.

"Yeah," he panted, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

They walked forwards, casting aside ferns with their hands in order to get a better look at the fence. Tim could see that it was in serious disrepair; the concrete base was cracked and crumbling, coming away in large pieces in some places. The wires were rusted, and drooping, some of them were hanging loose. But it still looked stable.

"How are we going to get to the other side?" said Wu, cupping his hands over his eyes so that he could see it better in the harsh light.

"I'm not sure yet," said Tim. They were now only sixty feet from the fence, and Tim could see that the jungle ended less than forty feet away. There was an area of open grass for twenty feet until the fence began.

"Do you think we could squeeze between the wires?" said Wu.

As they came closer Tim saw that it wasn't possible. Although the wires were spaced a foot apart from each other, he could now see that there was also a latticework of smaller wires which prevented the passage of smaller animals between them.

As Wu's shoulders dropped Tim saw that he had realized this too. They passed the tree line, and onto the open grass. It was trimmed short, as if it was regularly mowed. It was probably fed on by herbivores, but he didn't really want to wait around to find out what kind. Looking left, and then right, he saw that the grassland extended all the way down the length of the fence.

"Maybe we could climb it," said Wu, looking upwards at the tops of the fence.

Tim looked at him, and thought that he heard a distant electronic sizzle from the depths of his memory, and absent 

mindedly looked at the palms of his hands, which had odd twin scars running horizontally across their middles.

"Tim?" said Wu.

Tim looked at him, and saw that Wu was frowning at him.

"We shouldn't climb it," said Tim, clearing his throat and moving forwards. "Maybe there's a gap somewhere we can use. I'm sure some of the dinosaurs have broken through at some point."

They stepped forwards, standing now only three feet from the concrete base. Tim run forwards, and jumped up onto the base, the concrete crumbling as his boots made contact with it. He bent down, and carefully inspected the intricate wiring, running his hands along the rusted surface. It was frayed and broken everywhere, but as a whole the structure remained solid and impenetrable.

"Sure could use Anderson's machete right around now," said Wu from behind him, pacing up and down the length of the fence.

"Well, yeah, that'd be helpful," said Tim, "but we don't, so we need to find another way of getting past."

Tim could see some small holes bitten into the wiring, arranged in circular patterns, where some small animals had bitten through the wires to get through the fence, but most of them were no wider than the palm of his hand.

He straightened up, and stared through the fence, looking at the other side. It was a small field, which stretched away for a few hundred meters before the jungle began once more, ominous and foreboding as ever. He stepped back to the edge of the concrete base, and looked left and right, trying to see if there were any holes in the fence they could use on some of the other segments.

They needed to get past this obstacle quickly; they couldn't afford to have this slow them down. If they didn't get to the visitor centre in time then their entire trip had been wasted.

"Hey, what's this?" said Wu suddenly from behind him.

Tim turned around curiously, and raised his eyebrows. Wu was crouched down a foot before the concrete base began, his back to Tim, staring at the ground in front of him.



"What is it?" said Tim, jumping down from the concrete and onto the grass, his feet making a dull thud on the soft ground.

Wu moved to the left slightly, sitting down on the grass, which was still slick and wet from the rain the previous night. In front of him, where Wu had been, Tim now saw that there was some form of burrow formed in the ground. The earth all around it was churned up, and reminded him of a rodent's den, except that the hole looked like it might be big enough for a person to squeeze through.

He looked at Wu, who was staring back at him with a quizzical look on his face. "What the hell is this?" he said in a hollow voice.

Tim looked at it for over a minute. It was impossible. They had all died out on this island years ago, he had checked dozens of times, he had been sure of it. They were all dead. Yet, now this new clue was staring him in the face, clear as day. And then there was what had happened at the airstrip. He had felt a knot in his stomach as soon as he had saw the powerful hind limbs and large tail crash into the jungle through the mist. And he was sure that Henry now had some inkling of what was out there. "Well," he said finally, "that's one big rabbit."

Wu gave him a look, and then bent over the hole, peering down into the darkness. "Grab my belt," Wu said, and then put his head down into the hole.

Tim frowned, and made to answer him back, but instead thought twice and simply leaned forward, and took a hold of Wu's waist band, and made sure that he didn't fall. Wu squirmed around for a few seconds, turning his body and arching his neck so that he could see better into the hole and to let more light in. Then he withdrew his head, and pulled his pack off of his back.

"It's not just a hole," he said, unzipping his pack, "I think it's a tunnel. It bends horizontally a few feet down. Let me get a better look."

He took a small pen light from his pack, and leaned back into the dark hole. Tim nodded, and increased his grip on Wu's belt once again.

Wu coughed, and a cloud of dust drifted out and into the air. "Yeah," said Wu in a choked voice, "it goes that way." His 

hand came up over his head, and pointed off towards the other side of the fence.

"You don't suppose it comes up on the other side, do you?" said Tim, craning his neck to try and see onto the other side of the fence over the concrete.

"Go take a look," Wu managed to say through a coughing fit.

Once Tim was sure that Wu wasn't going to topple into the hole when he let go on his waistband, he stood up and leapt back up onto the base, and grabbed the fence, staring intently at the grass on the other side.

At first all he could see was a carpet of green, interrupted occasionally by a flower or two, but nothing else. But slowly, his vision adjusted, and he saw that there wasn't just one hole on the other side of the fence, but several. Dozens, in fact.

He frowned, raising his eyebrows. It seemed that many animals had burrowed underneath the fence in order to get around the island. Large animals. And they had done so quite recently, by the look of the fresh mounds of dirt that lay stationed beside each hole.

He jumped back down onto the ground, and dropped to his knees in front of Wu just as he pulled his head from the hole, spluttering and sporting a dirt spattered face.

"What do you think made this?" asked Wu, looking at the hole curiously.

Tim ignored him, pretending that he hadn't heard.

"Well? Is there a hole on the other side?" Wu said.

"Yeah," said Tim, "a couple. Do you think they join up? A tunnel?"

"Only one way to find out," said Wu briskly, and promptly grabbed his pack. Holding it out in front of him, he stuck his head into the hole, and before Tim had time to argue he had dived down, and wiggled his way out of sight.

"Henry!" shouted Tim, throwing himself down and sticking his head down into the hole. "Get back out here! You don't know if that even comes up again!"

He was mad. Wu was insane; if the tunnel was unstable collapsed then he's be crushed or he'd suffocate. And Tim didn't want to go in after him. He didn't like small spaces, at all. But as he heard Wu's grunts get quieter, he realized that it 

may very well be the only way to get over the fence. And that if Wu made it, he'd have to go in after him.

He shivered.

Slowly, he got to his feet, and stumbled over to the base, and climbed up, looking at the field on the other side, waiting to see if Wu emerged from one of the holes.

He had a tight knot forming in the pit of his stomach. He knew that Wu wouldn't come up again. He'd be killed, and Tim would be left alone.

He caught himself, realizing that he was breathing fast. The fence was bringing back memories that he thought he had rid himself a long time ago. But this place was starting to get to him. It was hell, it always had been.

A single cough.

Tim looked to the left, and saw an arc of dirt shoot up three feet into the air. A moment later Wu pack shot out of the ragged hole in the ground, and landed with a dull thud a few feet away. Tim breathed a sigh of relief, and watched as Wu's hand swung out nowhere, and gripped the grass, pulling it up in great chunks as he hauled himself out of the hole.

Wu rolled over onto his back, and Tim could see that he was covered in mud and dirt. Wu's chest was rising and falling quickly; he looked as if he had been running.

"Henry," said Tim, "are you alright?"

Wu raised hand, and gave him a thumbs up, looking as if he was concentrating on breathing.

After a minute Wu was on his feet. Retrieving his pack he approached the fence, coughing.

"How was it?" asked Tim.

"It was…okay," said Wu. "Looked stable. It was a little hard to breathe in there, it was pretty tight. But it was bearable. You can do it Tim."

Tim didn't much like the idea of going in there. He had the horrible idea that he'd get stuck, or he wouldn't be able to breathe at all. But they had to get going now, or it was too late.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he marched over to the hole, and took his pack off, and held it out in front of him 

just like Wu had. He stood over the tunnel entrance, and took a glance back at Wu, who gave him an encouraging nod.

He bent down, and crouched like a swimmer just about to dive into a pool. And then he dipped his head, and went down into the dark space, his pack held out in front of him. He was immediately plunged into perpetual blackness, and he felt dust hit his eyeballs. He closed them instinctively, and felt it scratch against his corneas. He decided to keep them closed, and felt his way through. He suddenly remembered that Wu was a lot thinner than he was, and had narrower shoulders. He became painfully aware of just how much a few seconds later, once his torso entered the hole, and he had to arch his neck as he rounded the bend that began five feet down. He kicked his legs to try and get in further, but found only thin air. Instead, he took one of his hands off his pack and used it to pulled himself inwards. He found that he could only breathe shallowly, and the air was so full of dust that he had to constantly fight the urge to lapse into a fit of coughing.

His feet finally found solid ground, and he wedged them against the lip of the hold, and pushed off with them as hard as he could, sliding his entire body into a horizontal position.

Still holding his pack with one hand, he made slow progress, using his other hand and his feet together to push himself along through the dark narrow space. He could feel the earth move around him as he scrabbled along, feel the loose stones and pebbles slide down the walls. It was unnerving, and he felt his pace of breath quicken against his will. His heart was beating hard against the walls of his chest, and besides the scattering of stones all he could hear was the rush of the blood in his ears.

He lost track of time as he climbed along; it felt as if he was making agonizingly slow progress, but inch by inch, he struggled along.

After two minutes he chanced opening his eyes for a moment, and saw sunlight filtering around the large obstructing shape of his pack.

Almost there, he thought to himself, and smiled. He was almost out, free. His pack came to a stop as it hit the second bend which led up to the surface. He backed his body up 

behind it, and with a heave he threw it upwards, out of the tunnel. Tim heard the amplified thud of it landing on the grass outside, and felt the ground push down on his back slightly.

He took a deep breath, and bent his neck upwards, and saw the bright blue sky outside. His head came around the bend, and then his neck. His shoulders were next, slowly, and he reached up with one hand and took a hold of the lip of the exit, and made to pull himself up when he came to a sudden halt.

He frowned, and pulled again.

Nothing. He realized that this bend was far sharper than the one which he had entered through, and that he couldn't bend him back far enough to get around it. No matter how hard he pulled, his body wouldn't budge. It was narrower here too, and he felt the tunnel squeezing his body, preventing him from taking air into his lungs.

He breathed out as much as he could, and slid ever so slightly upwards, but once again came to a jarring halt. And now he was in even more trouble, as he couldn't take the air back into his lungs; the earth was crushing his chest.

In a fit of panic he wriggled his body frantically, and to his horror cascades of mud and stones fell away from the walls of the tunnel, falling on his face. He coughed, and wriggled again; he had to get out, he had to get free. With an almighty _whump _the entire tunnel collapsed on top of him, and he was plunged into silence. The vertical tunnel fell in on him as well, and the sunlight was cut off abruptly.

He tried to scream, but there was no air in his lungs. The force of the ground pushing down on him was unlike anything he had ever felt. He could feel his ribs dig into his flesh as his entire body was squashed together. He was pinned with one arm reaching towards the surface and the other by his side, unable to move either.

That was it; his fate was sealed. He was doomed to die down here, he was going to suffocate. He felt a single fear escape his eyes, and dampen the ground around his head. As his oxygen starved brain slowly began to slow down, time seemed to slow down. And the pain began to lessen, and fade away. It was like slipping into a peaceful sleep. Suddenly 

images filled his head. He was back in the car with Lex; the Rex was staring in through the window, the massive eyeball swiveling in the socket, the black pupil constricting in the bright light of the torch. He was so scared.

Now he was in a dim kitchen, surrounded by metal cabinets and work surfaces. He was scrabbling along the cold floor, trying to make as little noise as possible. A harsh snarl rose and fell, and he shuddered uncontrollably. Distantly, he was surprised that after all of these years the sound was so fresh in his mind. And even now it terrified him beyond all else.

Suddenly he felt the ground above him shift, the massive weight on top of his lessened ever so slightly, and something grabbed the wrist of the arm which had been holding onto the lip of the exit tunnel. It gave an almighty wrench, and he felt his body slide forward an inch. It happened again, and he slid a little more. His back felt like it was about to snap in two, but he marshaled the last of his strength, and wind milled his free arm, and made a restricted bicycle like movement with his legs. Another great pull and his body soared like a rocket from the dirt, into open daylight. He felt a wonderful moment of weightlessness, of being free, flying through the air. He landed on in a pile on top of a soft shape, with stones and mud showering down all over him. He took in huge, deep breaths, taking in as much air as he could at a time. Within seconds he began to feel better, and he recovered surprisingly quickly, the haze which had descended over his brain dissipating.

He opened his left eye fractionally, and peered around. Harsh sunlight met his gaze, and he was shocked by the vibrancy of color which struck him. He looked down, and saw that what he had landed on was Henry Wu, who was laughing at him, his eyes dancing. Despite the fact that he was being laughed at after having nearly died, again, he was immensely glad to see him.

"See," said Wu, "piece of cake."


	40. Chapter 38: Close Confines

Chapter 38

**Close Confines**

"Owch!" grated Edgar, "will you please be more careful?"

Guiterrez looked at him for a moment, and made a smile which was more of a grimace, and then looked back down at the sole of Edgar's boot, his face immediately descending into a snarl. Edgar had a three inch thorn sticking from the bottom of his shoe, and by the howl of pain Edgar has given a few seconds before, Guiterrez guessed it had also penetrated his foot quite a bit. Edgar sat on a large, volcanic looking rock which lay imbedded in the ground, covered in soggy moss and decaying leaves. Guiterrez was crouched beside him in the damp mud, surrounded by a dense layer of ferns and bushes. It was lighter now in the jungle, and although only a tiny proportion of the sunlight reached the ground in jungle this thick, they could at least see what they were doing properly. Somewhere far off, they heard a distant roar which seemed to make the air particles around them vibrate, but they paid no attention.

"Just pull it out, Martin," said Anderson, leaning against the trunk of the nearest tree, looking exasperated and bored, twiddling the strap of his rifle in his fingers, his eyes on the surrounding jungle.

Edgar looked at him fiercely for a moment, but Guiterrez could see in his eyes that he knew there was nothing else they could do with it. Guiterrez took a firm grip of the end of the thorn, and looked at Edgar.

"On three?" asked Edgar.

"Sure," said Guiterrez, and before Edgar had time to do anything else he gave a sharp tug, and pulled the thorn from his foot. The thorn came clean out, and Guiterrez noted that the last few inches of the spine was tainted red. Not that he cared. In fact he looked up eagerly to see Edgar's reaction.

Edgar gave a shout; his teeth bared, and then looked at Guiterrez with a look of shock and anger, tears in his eyes. "I thought I said on three?" he said in indignation.



Guiterrez shrugged. Standing up and tossing the thorn away into the bushes, he thought he heard the slightest of laughs escape Anderson from behind him. "I thought I'd spare you the agony of anticipation," Guiterrez said over his shoulder.

He had found that despite his earlier efforts to refrain from treating Edgar differently, he know didn't care much, and found some sick pleasure out of causing him discomfort. In the back of his mind he put it down the fact that he simply didn't like the man very much. He seemed to emanate an air of sliminess, and came across as untrustworthy, as if he was still hiding something.

He rolled his eyes at Edgar's mutterings, and turned to Anderson. "You'll be fine, we need to get moving. We're on the clock here, and I can't wait to get off this rock. You can stand on it, right?" he said in a purposefully goading voice. "Or do we have to make a stretcher for you?"

"Yeah, I can stand on it," said Edgar sourly, standing up and standing firmly on his injured foot, barely concealing a twitch of pain.

Guiterrez picked his pack up and slung it over his shoulder, and with a quick look around at the surrounding forest, took up his place behind Anderson and continued on through the underbrush.

They had been travelling through the jungle since they had left the lagoon behind almost an hour and a half before, following the jungle river northwards through the island interior. As Tim had told them, they had kept their distance from the flowing water, at a few hundred meters away at all times, fighting their way through the vines and ferns. It had been difficult, and by now they found themselves covered in tiny scratches and bruises, but they agreed that it was better to be slowed down than be eaten. Guiterrez guessed that they had covered around four miles, and that they were only around an hour away from the visitor area. So far they hadn't heard or seen anything either at the river or in the surrounding area. And in this tropical jungle, with the songs of birds and clicking of thousands of insects, it was almost possible to enjoy the lazy atmosphere.



But Guiterrez knew that it wouldn't last. It never did in this place. He trudged along behind Anderson, Edgar following closely behind, limping slightly.

It was now almost midday from what he could tell; he didn't bother to ask anybody or even to look at his watch. The sun was high in the sky, and the golden rays of light that struck the ground occasionally were harsh and scolding. The jungle was stiflingly hot, the coolness of the morning now all but gone. Moisture seemed to coat everything, from the leaves to the air itself, and his entire body was covered in a film of sweat. He could almost feel the heat radiate from his skin, and the space between him and his own clothes felt like a furnace. When his body passed momentarily into sunlight, any unprotected skin seemed to burn and tingle immediately.

It was extremely uncomfortable, but he tried to not let it bother him, for he couldn't afford to have his senses dulled. This proved to be more difficult than he had anticipated, and after only a few seconds he found himself drifting helplessly into a daydream. Through his own vision another, distant, rather unfocused picture overlaid it, and as he concentrated on his mind's eye he watched as his subconscious began feeding him images. He saw himself standing on the roof of a large building, jumping up and down and waving his arms in wide arcs. He saw the helicopters lowering themselves down towards him, the pilot waving to him cheerfully. Maybe, he thought, they'd have a cold drink onboard. Perhaps some ice. He smiled at the thought of something so wonderfully refreshing, and saw himself looking down at the trees as he was lifted away from the island—

Anderson suddenly stopped in front of him. He didn't give any warning; he didn't reach for his weapon, or even any hint of why he didn't continue. He simply stopped, and stood absolutely still.

Guiterrez snapped his head up at the abrupt change of attitude, breaking out of his reverie with a start, momentarily confused. Without thinking he stopped a few steps behind him, staring at the black straps that looped around Anderson's back, not daring to even avert his gaze, suddenly afraid to move. If possible he felt the sweat on his forehead increase in 

thickness, and he felt the slick warm liquid begin to slide down his face.

A few seconds later Edgar simply collided with his back, apparently oblivious. He bounced off of Guiterrez, being considerably leaner, causing him to spout a stream of muttered curses. Guiterrez felt his insides curl in protest, as if by doing so they could make Edgar be quiet. Through his fixed stare he also saw Anderson's back tense at the sounds Edgar was making, and Guiterrez was sure that something was wrong. Edgar began to protest loudly, and Guiterrez clenched his fists tighter to stop himself whirling around and beating Edgar to within an inch of his life. But then Edgar seemed to catch on at the sight of their bodies fixed as rigidly as manikins, and stopped in mid-sentence, lapsing into complete silence.

Within moving his eyes, trying his best not to even blink, Guiterrez slowly tried to build a mental picture of his surroundings. His peripheral vision told him that the jungle seemed to be still apart from leaves casually swaying in the wind, but he couldn't see around the large figure of Anderson in front of him. It was comparatively quiet to how it had been previously in their on the island, but it seemed that the jungle was still waking up, and the occasional bird twittering hadn't ceased. At least, he thought they were birds. And then as he concentrated on his nose he caught it. The slight, yet undeniable smell of decaying flesh was carried on the tiniest of breezes towards him. He felt his stomach churn, and he had the distant urge to be sick crawl along the length of his throat.

Edgar must have smelt it too, because Guiterrez heard a suppressed guttural cough escape him, and he sensed Edgar swaying slightly on the spot.

And then, hardly distinguishable from the clicking and snapping of the insects around them, a tiny sighing sound rose and fell. Guiterrez closed his eyes tightly, and swore silently. Taking a steadying breath, he opened his eyes again, and waited.



Less than a second later it came again, once again barely audible. It was coming from in front of them, slightly off to the left.

And then suddenly Anderson walked forward, as if nothing had happened, his rifle bouncing on his shoulder.

Guiterrez's mouth fell open as he stared in disbelief, completely shocked.

"It's ok," said Anderson, striding away from them.

"What the fuck was that all about?" said Guiterrez in indignation, clattering through the tall bushes towards him, anger building inside him. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Yeah," said Edgar, fighting through a thick growth of vines to join them, panting, "me too."

Guiterrez ignored him, and looked as Anderson turned around and simply pointed in front of him, stepping sideways so that they could see what he was indicating.

Immediately Guiterrez noticed that the jungle ended abruptly for a moment, and then began again just beyond where Anderson was standing. A thin path ran horizontally across their route, approximately five feet across. The ground of this path seemed beaten down; the earth was bright red and stood out against the greenery of the rest of the jungle. Footprints of all different shapes and sizes littered the path, some of them leaving deep gouges several inches deep into the dirt. Unabated by a thick canopy above, the sunlight was free to strike the ground with full force here, creating a bizarre golden glow as the shafts of light struck the ground in a thin strip in the jungle. It made the path look like a glowing road of glory, very attractive in the manner of which it contrasted with the gloom that surrounded them.

"What is it?" said Edgar, walking forwards through the grass, stopping just before the transition from green to red earth, and crouched down, peering at one of the largest footprints, which was over a foot long and was rounded with small, toe-like protuberances towards the top end.

"It's a game trail," said Guiterrez, frowning. This wasn't good news, at all—

"Yes," said Anderson, "but that's not all. Look." He pointed down to the ground to the right of where Edgar was crouched.



Guiterrez followed his finger, and gasped as he caught sight of what had been making the sighing sounds moments before. A second later Edgar gave a yell of surprise and leaped backwards, landing on his backside and scrambling backwards.

Sprawled on the floor in front of them was a small dinosaur, which from what Guiterrez could tell looked herbivorous. Barely three feet long and two feet high, it had a slender build, with a long S-shaped neck, long muscular legs and a sturdy looking tail. But it looked like the least threatening animal he had seen so far on this island. Its tiny chest was rising and falling rapidly, and it gave a pained sighing sound with each exhalation.

"Is it dying?" said Edgar; standing up with a look is barely concealed disgust on his face.

"No, it's injured," said Guiterrez, "look at its leg."

There was a large tear which ran down the rear flanks of the animal, the deep crimson flesh contrasting sharply against the dark brown of the surrounding skin. It began near the bottom of the ribs, and curved in a great rip down the leg, tapering at the ankle bone. Dried blood lay crusted all over the skin and on the ground in great pools, and fresh blood was still seeping out in places.

"How recent is that?" said Anderson, looking around at the jungle. Guiterrez, unnerved by Anderson's sudden apprehension, looked fleetingly into the depths of the trees, but only saw unbroken greenery, and heard only the lazy sounds of the jungle. Satisfied, he crouched down, and took a small step closer to the little dinosaur.

It seemed to sense his approach, the pale glazed eyes flitted fractionally down to where he was positioned, but didn't make any move to inspect him or to move away. Either because it didn't sense him as a threat or it was simply incapable of doing so in this state.

"Recent," he said, "I'd say twenty minutes or so. If it keeps bleeding like this it'll be dead within the hour."

"But what did that? I mean, it was attacked right?"



"Looks like the flesh is ripped, see the skin on the periphery of the wound is flayed and broken. Something attacked this dinosaur, but not with its teeth. This is a slashing wound."

"Claws?" said Anderson.

"Yeah; big ones," said Guiterrez, standing up and taking a step back.

"So why didn't the attacker kill it? I mean, could it still be around?" asked Edgar.

"I'll guarantee you that it is. This is a method of hunting still seen today. Wound the prey and wait for it to die of shock and blood loss, without the risk of being injured."

Anderson looked down at the little dinosaur, and a spasm of pity crossed his face. Guiterrez felt himself sympathize a little with the tiny animal, but he couldn't forget the fact that it was a kill or be killed world.

"We need to leave, now," he said, pointing in the direction that led off of the path, "Get as far away from here as possible."

The other two frowned at him, as if he was being unreasonable.

"Wait a minute," said Edgar, "this is a path in the jungle. We've been fighting our way through these trees for over an hour, and we're not going fast enough. You say we're on the clock, so we can follow this trail and get there faster!"

"It's a game trail," said Anderson, "so it leads to water, and the jungle river up north, which is where we want to go, isn't it?"

Guiterrez gave an exasperated noise of frustration. "Yes, it's a game trail, which is exactly why we have to get away now!"

"Why? I don't understand," said Anderson, clutching at his rifle at Guiterrez's sudden agitation.

"Because a Game trail like this is a prime location to set an ambush!—"

The tiny dinosaur in front of them gave a yelp, and gave a violent shudder, its legs flapping in the air, as if it were trying to stand. They turned to stare at it, and as they did so it gave another yelp, and carried on the sound was the unmistakable air of terror. It shuddered, and rolled over onto its stomach.



An almost identical yelp came from the distance behind them, further up the game trail, slightly louder than the injured animal's call.

And suddenly the jungle emanated a myriad of frightened screams in an explosion of sound and movement, and a great clattering of foliage came from all directions. Guiterrez gave a choked sound as he and Edgar were pulled into a low crouch by Anderson, watching the surrounding trees as they seemed to come alive with movement.

Guiterrez saw Edgar's mouth move, and he lip read him saying '_What the hell?_', but he couldn't hear his voice over the deafening sounds of the forest. The little dinosaur in front of them was now trying to stand on dangerously shaking legs, and succeeded only in flopping to the floor a few feet away from them, giving a squeal which drowned out everything else for a moment. Behind them they heard a loud, creaking groan, and then a large _thud_, and Guiterrez was sure a tree had just been felled. He could just about pick out a thousand feet dashing through the underbrush barely twenty meters from them, coming from all directions.

And then, as abruptly as they had started, the noises ceased. They didn't return to the normal sounds of the clicking of insects and bird calls; every single noise simply stopped dead, propelling them into complete silence.

Guiterrez's hearing was drowned for a moment by the sounds of his own breathing; which was now the loudest thing he could hear. He glanced at Anderson and Edgar, who were both looking around, bewildered.

They soft trickling of the jungle river was the only other sound that he could discern; but otherwise it was deathly silent, and despite the sweltering atmosphere that he found himself in, he shivered.

Hesitantly, he stood up, and peered into the trees, taking in every detail, slowly turning in a wide circle, looking for any sign of movement. But he saw none; even the leaves which had waved in the wind now seemed to be frozen in place.

The little dinosaur in front of them yelped again, the sound pierced Guiterrez like a gunshot, and he snapped his head to look as it managed to regain its feet once more, and began to 

slowly stagger forwards, up the game trail away from them, wobbling precariously from side to side. Guiterrez watched as it took another step, and whimpered.

"What's—"

The call they had heard earlier came again, louder this time, and it conveyed a deep sense of fear. This time the call was accompanied by a rapid crunching sound, like feet treading over foliage. Something was coming their way.

The animal in front of them gave a jerk, and to Guiterrez's great surprise it gave a shriek and sprinted off down the game trail, its limp suddenly lost.

No less than a moment later an almighty roar tore through the jungle towards them, and struck them like a solid wall. Guiterrez felt his heart leap into his throat as a single thump traveled along the game trail, and then another, and another. Guiterrez realized that a much larger animal was now coming towards them. They jungle remained deathly silent, as if every living creature within it was now holding its breath. Now two things were coming.

The little dinosaur that had been in front of them was nowhere to be seen, the game trail ahead of them curved to the left after a hundred feet or so, but now it was empty. They turned in unison to look behind them, and saw another, slightly larger version of the little dinosaur appear from the bushes. It stopped for a moment as it saw them, and cocked its head to the side momentarily.

Another thump ran along the ground towards them, and the dinosaur instantly gave a terrified yelp, and charged down the game trail towards them.

Edgar gave a yell of surprise as Anderson seized his collar and threw him bodily off the trail into the ferns, before jumping after him. Guiterrez felt his eyes widen just as he found himself face to face with the charging animal, and with a great effort he launched himself in the opposite direction that the other two had gone, into a dense cluster of tall ferns.

He crashed down onto the ground, and rolled over just as the dinosaur dashed past, its feet just visible through the leaves, the large claws splayed out momentarily at is made contact with the ground.



Guiterrez was dazed, the stale air was hot closer to the floor, and the world seemed to spiral around him for a moment. He was about to stand up when another roar tore through the air, and a black shape appeared in front of him and thundered down the trail towards them. He looked up, across the game trail at Anderson and Edgar. To his horror he saw Edgar stumbling out onto the trail, blood seeping down one side of his face. The dinosaur soared down the trail, and Guiterrez saw that it was around twelve feet tall, and deep black in coloration. He caught sight of a large claw hanging down from each of the forelimbs.

"Move, dimwit!" Guiterrez shouted at Edgar, who seemed to suddenly come to his senses, and looked around. "Get off the fucking trail!"

Edgar went rigid at the sight of the dinosaur which flew down the path, its teeth bared into a snarl. Edgar looked as stiff as a board, and Guiterrez knew that he had become victim to the same instinct that deer often did. He could be frozen there for almost ten seconds. And then it would be too late.

Without thinking Guiterrez leapt to his feet, and tore out onto the path, and grabbed Edgar by the sleeve, and dragged him back into the foliage.

The landed with a clatter on the floor, and with a roar the dinosaur charged past them, after the smaller animal, causing the floor to rumble.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" shouted Edgar over the noise, rolled off of Guiterrez and stumbled back onto the game trail, looking at the departing dinosaur.

As the sounds of the footsteps faded, Guiterrez stood up and joined Edgar, Anderson emerging a second later, his rifle trained on the dinosaur.

"What is that?" said Anderson.

Guiterrez shook his head and shrugged helplessly. None of them were experts on dinosaurs from what he could tell; all they had to go on were childhood memories. But neither species rang any bells for him.

"The smaller ones were adolescent Gallimimus," said Edgar, wiping the blood away from his face with his hand. "The carnivore was a Baryonyx."



Both Guiterrez and Anderson turned to him, their eyebrows raised. "How do you know that?" they said in unison.

Edgar looked at them for a second until what they had said registered, and then he seemed to think that he had made a grave error, because his face creased into a grimace, as if he wanted to slap himself in the face. He tried to brush it off casually, and shrugged. "I, uh," he said, looking and fixing his stare onto the direction of the departed dinosaur, "I read a lot."

Guiterrez nodded slowly, but there was no doubt that he was lying through his teeth. Whatever the reason was that Edgar knew the dinosaurs here, it to do with what he had been doing here in the first place.

"Why are you bleeding?" he said to change the subject.

"He hit his head on a branch when I pulled him down," said Anderson, apparently uncaring.

There was a screech in the distance, and then the sound of a loud snarl and a violent crunching sound, like a bulldog playing with a chew toy. Guiterrez frowned at the sounds; it seemed the Gallimimus had lost. It gave a shriek of terror, which descended into a guttural gargle, and with a sickening _rip_, it became silent.

They all stood still, and listened. The jungle seemed to come back to life around them; one bird gave a chirp, then two, and then a frog croaked, and then the whole thing seemed to rumble to life like some giant machine.

If it hadn't been for the fact that they had been listening intently, they wouldn't even have heard the sharp snap of a twig behind them, back up the game trail.

Guiterrez closed his eyes, and shook his head in utter disbelief. Not now, he thought. We've gotten this far, can't we just have a break?

A low growl rose and fell almost silently.

Guiterrez glanced down, and saw Anderson click the safety button of his rifle off. Slowly, they all turned around, and faced the other way.

A second Baryonyx stood over them, ten feet away up the game trail. It's cold, green eyes were fixed on them, swiveling from one to another.

"Oh shit," Edgar whispered.



Immediately the dinosaur roared, and lunged for them, its jaws opened wide. Without blinking, Anderson raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger. There was blast of gunfire, and the Baryonyx gave a howl of rage, and fell backwards. It stumbled sideways for a moment, and shook its head, moaning. Blood seeped from several holes in its lower jaw and shoulder.

"That didn't do it dude," said Edgar.

"Let's get out of here," said Guiterrez, and made to run into the jungle when the first Baryonyx appeared behind them, the Gallimimus hanging from its jaws.

Anderson wheeled around and fired a single bullet into its leg, and waved for Guiterrez and Edgar to run. As Guiterrez sprung into the jungle he heard both dinosaurs give screams of rage, and then the ground began to shake.

Guiterrez was plunged into the darkness of the forest, Edgar in front of him, casting the ferns and branches aside. A moment later Anderson appeared behind him, and they all sprinted forwards.

The Baryonyx roared again behind them, and Guiterrez glanced back to see Anderson firing over his shoulder, the blasts of gunfire ringing loudly in the close confines of the jungle, making his ears ring. A single loud _smack_ told him that one of the bullets had found their mark, coupled with another roar.

Sweat pouring down his face, Guiterrez didn't dare slow down, but kept sprinting forwards, north. Towards the visitor centre.


	41. Chapter 39: The Creek

Chapter 39

**The Creek**

The gurgling water trickled over the back of his head, slowly causing his billowing hair to dance backwards and forwards lazily in the current, caressing his scalp. The coolness of the water was refreshing and pleasant, a stark contrast from the tropical heat which surrounded him, but it was now starting to make the back of his body go numb with cold. His body felt battered and weak, the parts of his body that were not submerged were covered with a mixture of grime and sweat. He felt a sharp pain in his right arm, just below the elbow, like somebody was jabbing him with a sharp stick.

A bird twittered in the trees above, followed by a small rustle of leaves. An answering bird called a moment later, a pleasant chirping sound…

Was it a bird?

Dodgson opened his eyes a fraction, and stared at the jungle canopy above him. The front portion of his vision was taken up by a stark cliff face, covered in bright green moss. A thick growth of vines stretched down towards him like great green fingers from a large overhanging tree. The vine that had caught him was still tied around his ankle; he could feel the pressure of the knot. Against the bright blue sky he caught a glimpse of the silhouette of one of the tiny beaked dinosaurs that he seen earlier flying through the air between two branches. A moment later it crashed down into the branches of one of the trees and disappeared.

Groaning, he turned over onto his stomach, and struggled onto all fours, his head down. Water dripped from his back and ran in rivulets down the side of his neck and behind his ears. The current now tickled the end of his nose, and he screwed his face up as pain shot through his right arm. Turning his head sideways, he saw a long scraping abrasion running from his wrist up to his elbow. Frowning, he looked down at the creek bed, and saw a sharp, craggy rock sticking up into the air. A dark red stain covered the very tip, glistening in contrast to the otherwise uniform blank color. He focused 

his attention further downstream, and studied the darkness of the creek of which he lay. It was laced with the shadows of the tree canopy high above, and the underbrush seemed to have been cleared away, and the bare dark earth lay bare.

The Tyrannosaur was gone now, and he couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched, like a thousand staring eyes were studying his every movement, as if the jungle itself would rise up and take him any moment.

He had to get back to the boat; it wouldn't wait much longer for him. In fact, he'd be lucky if it was still there. He now highly doubted that he'd be able to make it back up to the car; short of climbing the cliff he didn't see a way to get back up to the road.

But he was sure that if he just headed north-east he'd find the dock and he could go home. But which way was north-east?

He stood up unsteadily, his feet becoming submerged in the water, sinking down into the gritty creek bed.

His stomach rumbled, and he clutched at his abdomen with his left hand, keeping his injured arm at his side. He was hungry, and it was making him weaker by the second. In this climate the heat seemed to sap his strength.

Turning in a wide circle, he tried to build a mental picture of where the car was. He pointed with his left hand at where he thought it was, and then traced the route he had taken with his mind, retracing where the Tyrannosaur had traced him. He now had his eyes closed, concentrating on his memory, but still moving his finger in accordance to his directions. Now he retraced the long main road, and then the dirt track, all the way to the dock.

He had turned slightly to the left, and was now pointing diagonally away from the cliff face, into the jungle upstream. He could follow the creek for a few hundred meters, and then he'd have to enter the trees. He estimated that he was around four miles from the dock, and that it'd take him three hours to get there if he stopped as little as possible.

Coughing, he walked on wobbly legs to the side of the creek, and held onto a low hanging branch for support. His ribs were burning with each breath as the muscles were stretched, and on the left side of his back a sharp pain made him wince; his 

fall had been much less jarring than he had predicted, but he suspected that he might have cracked a rib.

He hoped to god that he didn't run into anything else, because he didn't want to run again, the pain as it was made him want to pass out on the spot.

Gripping the branch with his right arm, he brought his left arm up and formed a fist, smashing it down near where it joined the trunk of the tree of which it belonged. It broke free with a _snap_, and he held it in his left hand like a walking stick. He tested it, putting his weight on it.

Nodding with satisfaction, he propped it up against the trunk of the tree, and looked down at himself. He shook off his outer jacket, and grabbed the hem of his shirt, tearing off blood stained strip. Pulling his jacket back on, but leaving his right arm out of the sleeve, he tied the two loose ends together in a tight knot, and looped it around his head. He put his right arm into it, and formed a sling, sighing with relief.

And then he grabbed his walking stick, and set off down the creek, heading north-east.


	42. Chapter 40: Broken Sanctuary

Chapter 40

**Broken Sanctuary**

"How are you doing there?" said Sarah, looking up at Ian's head with concern on her face.

"Oh, just fine, thank you," Malcolm sighed, staring contentedly down at her as if she was a mildly interesting television show on a Saturday evening. "You're very gentle, you know. Maybe you should have been a nurse."

"Maybe…" she agreed, trying to keep him distracted for as long as possible. Not that she needed to; Ian seemed to thoroughly enjoy being doped on the drug. She had the feeling that she could have severed his leg and he wouldn't have complained.

Gingerly, she loosened the knots of the cloth which bound his injured leg, trying not to move the bandage. The cloth had once been surgical white, but now it was sorry sight. A dull mixture of red, brown and green made from blood, dirt and detritus from the jungle. It gave off an unpleasant odor, which made me wrinkle her nose involuntarily.

It was important that they kept the wound as clean as possible, to help prevent the spread of infection.

Carefully, she took the edge of the bandage between her thumb and forefinger, and lifted it slowly into the air, pulling it away from the skin. Underneath most of the skin was clean and smooth, a sharp contrast to the rest of the leg which was dark and muddy, creating a band of cleanliness on his shin. But forming a circle fifteen centimeters wide was a series of punctures which ran horizontally across his leg. The flesh was torn and missing in places, creating a ragged look to the wound. Luckily, the bleeding had now completely stopped; the largest of the cuts were covered over with big scabs.

To Sarah, the cuts looked septic. Definitely infected; she had seen enough sick animals in the field to know that. The flesh was still red and almost healthy looking, as if the wound had just opened, but it was taking on a sickly looking green tinge. The skin around the wound was red too, and inflamed. Puffy, like somebody had padded the underside of his flesh.



"How is it? Am I going to live?" Malcolm asked casually, as if he was asking the time.

The honest answer was that she didn't know. She was sure he had contracted some infection or disease. She guessed that it was a tropical disease, maybe Malaria or something. She wasn't sure; she wasn't trained in this sort of thing. But there was something nagging in the back of her head; a hunch that this wasn't normal.

Instead, she gave him best smile and said, "You're going to be fine, Ian. Just a little infection; nothing antibiotics won't take care of."

Malcolm sighed, and shook his head fractionally, closing his eyes. "I wish that were so."

Sarah glanced at his face for a moment, the shadow of a frown forcing its way onto her features.

"What do you mean?" she said, prodding the area around the wound tentatively.

Malcolm gave a resigned groan of pain, but it sounded as if it was more out of annoyance than anything else. "You think I'd get sick in a place like this, by coincidence? Tim already gave me the antidote to the venom of that…thing."

"You sound like you know what's wrong with you," said Sarah, carefully pouring a trickle of water onto his leg, cleaning away the dirtiest places around the punctures.

Through half closed eyes Malcolm observed her for a moment, and Sarah felt odd, as if suddenly thrown into the spotlight, under scrutiny.

She had to smile. Of course he knew.

"Well?" she said, pulling a fresh strip of bandage out of her bag, and wrapping his leg.

Malcolm licked his lips, no longer looking at her. "Thirsty," he said absently, looking towards the gate at the front of the shed. Sarah pulled the knot of the new bandage tight, causing him to groan once more. She sat back for a moment, and observed her work.

Not bad.

"You want some water?" she asked, dragging her bag towards her.

No answer.



"Ian?"

Sarah looked up, but Malcolm's eyes had fluttered closed, and he was humming quietly to himself, in broken, weak tunes. She shook her head.

"Green, green, hoppy hop," said Malcolm, his eyes opening a fraction, stills staring towards the steel bars of the shed.

Harding stared at him for a moment. "What?"

It was getting harder and harder to separate his morphine-induced meaningless ravings from conscious thought. It was bad enough when he was lucid. Now he was drumming the concrete floor with his fingers, moving his head slowly from side to side.

"Ian."

A bird squawked outside, but she paid no attention. She had long grown used to it. It might have been the Microceratops that seemed almost omnipresent on this island. But it didn't matter; they were safe in here.

"Hoppity hop," he said again, his glazed eyes still on the gate.

"Damn it, Ian!"

"Hmm?" his eyes shifted to her for a moment, no hint of urgency within them.

"Will you please be quiet?"

Malcolm smiled weakly. "Sure, Sarah, but I think our friends want to play."

"That's nice," she said, plopping herself down onto her backside and leaning against a crate which sat behind her. She didn't even bother to try to understand what he was saying. She looked around the shed absently. It was now the middle of the day, and outside she could see the tree line shimmering in the heat through the thick window. But underneath the roof is was cooler, and almost comfortable. The floor was still damp from the storm the night before, aiding in cooling the shelter.

They both sat near the front of the shed, slightly off to the left, next to a large congregation of boxes, crates and supplies. Tires leaned against the wall, and coils of fencing wire lay stacked on the ground. They sat just within the shadow of the roof, the sunlight beginning in a clear line a meter in front of them. Near the back of the shed it was dark and gloomy; the 

strip lights that had illuminated the building during the night had switched themselves off just after daybreak. But it still felt good to know that they were safe in here. She'd like to see some of the dinosaurs break through two feet of concrete.

The squawking came again, closer this time. Sarah got to her feet, and went towards the window that lay imbedded in the wall four feet from the entrance. It was small, and she hadn't seen it the night before. But she preferred looking through the window that going to the gate; the thick glass was more reassuring than the steel bars.

"Sarah?"

"Yes, Ian?" She looked out through the window, but saw nothing but the empty field which lay outside, and then the tree line a hundred feet or so away.

"Do you see them?"

She turned to look at him. He was pointing outside, through the steel bars of the gate. She stared for a moment, but saw nothing but greenery. "See what?" she said, exasperated.

"Hopping," he said.

"Ian…"

"Shh, shh," he wheezed. "Wait."

Sarah stood still, and stared again. She scanned the trees first. The canopy; she suspected he had seen the Microceratops jumping around in the branches. But she saw nothing. Then she moved downwards, to the dark spaces at the roots of the jungle. But all she saw was shadow.

She glanced at Ian, for a moment, eyebrows raised, but he merely nodded weakly back towards the gate.

She scanned the field of grass. There was nothing—a sudden movement. It was tiny, almost undetectable. She couldn't see where it had come from.

"What is it Ian?"

"Compies," he said simply.

And as he said it, she saw them. Ten feet from the gate, they stood in the grass, which came up to their long, S-shaped necks. They looked like green, featherless chickens to her. Even from a distance she could see their tiny black eyes, beady and unblinking. A few of the animals hopped up and down on the spot, but other than that they were still; 

unnervingly so. She tried to count them, but it took over a minute as they blended so well with the surrounding foliage. Eventually she settled on a dozen or so. And all of them were staring right at her and Malcolm.

She had seen them before, on Isla Sorna, when she and Nick had raided Ludlow's camp. Not up close or anything, but she remembered that he had one in a cage on his desk. But then it had looked playful, and insignificant. The animals she saw before her now were…creepy.

And then something else struck her; they were easily small enough to fit through the bars of the gate. And as she watched, the Compies slunk forwards, the tiny heads weaving through the grass, the bodies still hidden.

She shivered, and backed up towards Malcolm.

She dropped to her knees next to her pack, and ripped the zip open, rummaging inside. She still had the tranquilizer gun with her; the others had left it for them, just in case.

But as she pulled it out, she wondered how she was going to hit them. They were obviously very agile, and the darts were far slower than ordinary bullets.

Where could they go? She wouldn't be able to take care of them all; she didn't have enough darts, even if she did manage to hit them with each shot, which was impossible in itself.

But they were only little; maybe she could just kick them away. They didn't look very strong at all.

As she watched the Compies emerged from the grass, one by one, coming to stand in the patch of mud which surrounded the shed for a few feet in every direction.

She could now see their entire bodies; less than two feet tall, with erect tails, lime green with a slightly darker striation pattern running along their backs. They were thin, the bony arms and legs more like sticks than anything else. The side ballooned outward with each of their breaths.

Sarah put the gun into the back of her waistband, and grabbed Malcolm by the collar. With her other hand she took her pack and swung it over her shoulder. Glancing back, she saw that there was only another forty feet behind her before the dark shadow of the back wall. She dragged him slowly 

across the floor, his body making a muffled scraping sound as it bumped along over the concrete and crawling vines. She grunted with the effort, and watched helplessly as the first of the little Dinosaurs hopped through the bars of the gate with ease, stepping into the damp interior.

Sarah dropped Malcolm onto the floor, groaning, at the rear wall of the shed. It was dark back here; she hadn't noticed before just how dark it really was.

A second Compy stumbled clumsily through the gaps of the thick steel bars of the front gate, following the first. Then a third jumped through more gracefully. Through the bars she could see the others approaching.

They began squeaking and hissing at each other, their silence broken. Sarah guessed that they had been relying on stealth before. But now they seemed to sense that there was no escape for their prey. Sarah had to agree with them; there wasn't any way out. They were trapped in a concrete box.

So much for being safe, she thought.

There were now seven Compies in the shed, and more were coming through as she watched. The first of them stepped through into the shadow, and its eyes glowed brightly, like a cat's.

It was very freaky; the eyes didn't blink at all, and the glowing orbs of light slunk towards her, as the bodies seemed to blend in with the shadows in contrast.

All of the Dinosaurs were inside now. Two of them hopped lightly onto the conveyer belt which ran parallel along the left wall. The Compies fanned out, creating a solid line across the thirty foot span of the shed. Now the space in front of her was full of glowing sets of eyes.

She swung her pack from over her shoulder, and laid it on the ground. She whipped the tranquilizer gun from her trousers, and trained it on the closest of the animals, which was now only around twenty five feet from her.

The animals didn't react to the appearance of the weapon at all. Why would they? They'd probably never seen a gun before, just like all of the other Dinosaurs on the island.



Sarah glanced down at Malcolm. He seemed to be unconscious, or semi-conscious. Either way he simply lay on the ground, groaning in pain.

"Ian?" she whispered.

He didn't answer. He didn't indicate he had heard her. He simply sighed, and groaned again. His leg twitched, flopping around slightly on the hard concrete.

She was alone now.

A distant squeak made her jump. It hadn't come from any of the animals before her, who had once again fallen silent, and had paused for a moment.

She looked back through the fence, and any hope of escaping that she had drained out of her. Around twenty more green shapes were racing across the field outside towards the shed. She was far outnumbered, and trapped. The Compies already inside the shed turned back to her, and squeaked excitedly.

They were now only ten feet away from Malcolm's boot.

Taking careful aim, she pointed the barrel of the tranquilizer gun at the dark shadow just below the closest set of eyes, and squeezed the trigger.

There was a _hiss_ as the dart soared from the end of the gun, and a low whine as it whistled through the air. A dull thud told her immediately that the dart had found its target.

The Compy screeched in alarm, and she saw the glowing pair of eyes disappear as the little dinosaur sunk to the floor, unconscious. She guessed that there was far too much anesthetic in the darts for an animal that small, and that they would almost certainly die, but she didn't care. The idea that the darts were as lethal as any bullet was oddly comforting. The problem was that he only had three darts left, which were slotted into a leather pouch dangling from the grip.

The other Dinosaurs looked apprehensive now, but only slightly. They seemed almost unperturbed by the fall of their comrade, and only seemed to have paused because of the strange sound made by the gun.

A few seconds later they turned back to Sarah, and began stalking forwards once more.

"Sarah."



She turned abruptly. Malcolm was trying to wave, but she could barely see his hand in the gloom.

"Ian?"

"The door," he breathed.

What door? There was only one door in this shed, and it was on the other side of those Compies; unreachable. Despite the fact that those little dinosaurs wouldn't stand a chance if she so much as kicked them, there were so many of them. She and Malcolm would be covered in them before they got anywhere near the gate if they ran for it.

She watched as several more Compies slunk through the bars, dashing forwards to join the others.

"I can't, Ian, the door's too far," she said, training the gun on the closest of the Compies.

The Compy suddenly leapt at her, with surprising speed and agility. It flew through the air as if it were light as a feather. Instinctively she pulled the trigger, but nothing happened; she'd forgotten to reload it.

She flung her arms up just in time, and the Dinosaur screeched as it collided with her open palm. She gripped it, and with all her strength flung it back towards the others, where it soared into two of its comrades, sending them scattering across the floor like bowling skittles.

The other Compies looked at their fallen for a moment, and then turned back to her, and squeaked, hopping up and down, as if she were playing a game with them.

"Sarah, the door," Malcolm repeated, his voice barely audible over the vocalizations.

"We can't Ian, it's at the other end of the shed," she said, breaking open the barrel of the gun, and inserting another dart with shaking hands.

"No," breathed Ian, "No, at the back."

"What?"

"Another door. At the back."

And then she remembered. Tim had said that there was another door at the back of the shed. That's how Tim and Wu were going to pick them up. It led to some sort of underground tunnel. She didn't like the idea of going into a dark tunnel very much, but anything was better than here.



She turned to the back wall, expecting to see a gleaming door waiting for her. But the wall was cloaked in darkness; she couldn't see a thing.

She ran to one corner, and hurriedly felt her away along the wall, her hands touching wet concrete, gripping hanging vines and creepers. No door.

She glanced over her shoulder as she neared the middle; the Compies had paused, their eyes following her as she exhibited this strange new behavior. If they had voices she would have guessed that they'd be laughing at her. She must look like a distressed animal trying to claw its way through the wall.

She turned back to feeling the wall. Less than ten seconds later her hands ran across a cold steel surface. She knocked on it with her knuckles, and it made a reverberating _dong_. She had found the door, she was sure of it. She felt with her hands, across, until she came to concrete again. She went back to the door, searching frantically for the handle. But she couldn't find it.

One of the animals squeaked behind her.

"Noise little bastards, aren't they?" mumbled Malcolm.

She looked over her shoulder, and saw that one of the Compies had hopped right up to Malcolm, and was staring at him inquisitively. Slowly, Malcolm raised his arm, and moved his index finger towards the Compies' head.

"Do you think he wants to play?"

"No, Ian, don't do that," said Sarah, moving towards him. But before she could take two steps the Compy leaps forward and promptly bit Malcolm on the tip of his finger.

"Oh," said Malcolm, a trace of shock on his voice, looking down dimly at his bleeding fingernail.

Sarah ran forwards and kicked the Compy viciously. It squeaked in alarm, but landed perfectly ten feet away, apparently unharmed.

The other Compies took a unanimous step forwards, seemingly encouraged rather than anything. Their prey was bleeding.

"I don't like them very much," murmured Malcolm, still staring at his finger.



Sarah ran back to the door, and began feeling for the handle again. But all her hands found was slick, cold metal. She reached down, and felt along the bottom, hoping to find a latch. And then he jumped up, trying t find one at the top. But there was nothing.

Suddenly she felt a small weight land on her back, small spiky protrusions sticking into her back. There was a Compy on her jacket, its claw digging in.

She flailed her arms for a moment, and the Compy squeaked. She felt something dig into her back, between her shoulder blades; it was trying to bite her through her clothes. She reached as far behind herself as she could, and her hand came into contact with a slender neck. She clamped down as hard as she could, and the Compy made a strangled gurgling. The claws instantly released her back, and she pulled it off her back and swung it over her head like a lasso. Normally she would have been appalled at treating animals this way, but not today. She threw it with for all she was worth at the wall next to the conveyer. It made a dull _thud_ as it came into contact with the concrete, and it fell to leather of the conveyer belt, and didn't move again.

Satisfied, she turned back to the door, and felt the entire door with the flats of her palms. And then her right hand found it. A small, rounded recess built into the door. She put her fist into it, and found a handle. She pulled it, but it didn't budge.

She looked over her shoulder fleetingly, and to her terror saw that the Compies were almost around her ankles. Two of them already stood on Malcolm's legs, peering at his bandaged wound.

With a wrench she twisted the handle, and it slid sideways easily. For a moment, nothing happened, and then he removed her hand from the recess as her ears popped. The door made a _plunk_, and it sounded as if the door had been held against the wall by plungers. It swung forwards silently.

She peered into it for a moment, but saw only blackness.

This was no time to make sure it was safe. This was their only chance. She grabbed her pack, and threw it, watching as it soared through the doorway, disappearing into the dark. 

Seizing Malcolm by the collar, she hauled him upwards, looping his left arm over her shoulder.

Malcolm groaned in pain, and weakly tried to move his injured leg out of the way as the two Compies on his leg fell to the ground, squawking angrily.

"Stand up, Ian," she said through clenched teeth.

"I can't," he mumbled.

"Ian. You have to stand," she said, dragging him towards the door.

The Compies swarmed around them, hopping up and down, snapping at her hands, chattering to each other in a frenzy.

She aimed the gun clumsily, and fired. The dart missed its target, and he heard a high whine as it bounced off of the concrete floor and soared off towards the front of the shed.

She staggered forwards, and one of the Dinosaurs leapt up at her face.

Not knowing what else to do, she head butted the tiny Dinosaur, and it fell backwards towards the floor. Furious, she swung her leg around, and knocked them back in great arcs.

Most of them hopped out of the way easily, but she caught at least half a dozen of them squarely in the torso.

They back off a little, but now her eyes had begun to adjust to the gloom, and she could see that there were several dozen Dinosaurs all around her.

She rushed forwards; only a few feet to the door. They were almost there.

She lashed out again with her leg, and knocked another three Compies away from her. Malcolm seemed to come to his senses suddenly, and she felt his weight on her shoulders lessen slightly as he began to walk forwards under his own power. He groaned in pain, and it seemed to be sapping up what little strength he had left to take this few steps.

"Go, Ian," she said, and pushed him forwards, towards the door, taking his arm of her shoulder. He almost doubled over, but staggered forwards, and caught the edge of the doorframe. Sarah dashed to the side, and grabbed a metal construction pole from a pile lying on the floor. It felt reassuringly sturdy in her hands, and she brandished it like a club.



She backed away, towards the door, and watched as Ian tumbled through it, into the darkness.

The Compies followed her, confident in their numbers. With a yell she surged forwards, and with a single horizontal swipe took out almost a dozen of them, sending them reeling across the shed.

The Dinosaurs backed off momentarily, and she used it to sprint back to the doorway, and stepped into darkness.

She could hear Malcolm's footsteps, intermingled with his coughs and groans.

She turned back to the open door, now the only available light, and leaned back through, pulling the heavy metal door towards her. As it swung closed, a single Compy hopped into view, standing in the doorway, preventing the door from closing. It's beady, glowing eyes surveyed her coldly, and it squeaked, as if it still believed they were playing a game.

"You little son of a bitch," she shouted, and swiped at it with her fist. As her hand made contact with the scaly skin she heard the clear _crack_ shoot through the air, and as it was knocked back out of sight she knew that she had broken its neck.

With a grunt she seized the door, and pulled it closed. With another _plunk_ it slammed shut, and sealed itself.

She was thrown into perpetual silence, and darkness. Cold, stale air filled her lungs.

"Ian?"

"Here," came his voice from below her.

She stepped forwards, feeling with her hands. Her thumb brushed a metallic surface in front of her, and she gripped it. A handrail. Her feet fell for a moment before they made contact with the floor again. She was on a staircase.

She descended gingerly, making her steps precisely, trying not to slip on the damp metal.

Malcolm coughed, a few feet away.

Her feet stepped down onto a soft, smooth surface, probably tarmac, and the handrail ended, her hand dropping to her side.



Her left boot bumped into something soft, and she nearly tripped. Bending over, and feeling with her hand, she felt rough cloth, tattered and dirty.

It was her pack.

With a flourish she unzipped it, and rooted around for a moment, until her hand folded around a metal tube. It was the torch they had found in the geothermal plant.

She clicked it on, and the darkness was suddenly thrown into sharp relief by the strong shaft of light which struck the ceiling.

Malcolm lay on the ground in front of her, panting.

Before her was what looked like an underground road, stretching off into the distance. The walls were jagged rock on both sides; the tunnel looked as if it had been dug in a hurry, or it hadn't been completed, the walls hadn't been smoothed. The ceiling was twenty feet above them, dripping with moisture.

On the other side of the metal door they could still hear the squawking of the Compies, and a scratching sound filled her ears as they scrabbled at the metal, trying to get through.

"You ok?" she breathed, crouching down beside Malcolm, who looked deathly pale under the glow of her torch.

"I've been better," he said lightly.

Sarah put her pack on, and tried to lift him up.

"Can't I rest a little longer?" he said, his chest rising and falling quickly.

"I'm afraid not," she said, pulling him to his feet, putting his arm over her shoulder again. "The others are going to try and pick us up, and they think we're in there. We need to go along this tunnel, towards the Garage."

"Why can't we stay here?"

"Because it's not safe here."

She didn't know why she said it, but she knew instantly that it was true. She had the nagging inkling that if the Compies wanted to get through, they'd get through. And she couldn't have that.


	43. Chapter 41: Garage

Chapter 41

**Garage**

The foliage crunched and swished as Wu trudged along through the small clove of bushes clustered around the edge of the jungle. A bird twittered in the canopy high above them, the sound echoing through the valley stretched out below them. The sunlight struck the ground with ferocity, the golden shafts attacking his skin on the back of his neck whenever he strayed from the shade provided by the overhanging trees at the periphery of the tree line.

The drone of insects which had been so ever present for so long had dissipated exponentially as they had climbed upwards from the island floor, and it now seemed very odd. Wu felt that he had lived with the sound for his entire life. Now the only sound was a continuous, light rustle of the leaves of the surrounding foliage. The leaves hadn't moved at all in the thickness of the jungle beforehand, but up on the higher slopes there was a light breeze which whipped up all around them. The sound of the leaves provided a fairly peaceful background noise in contrast. Wu found it calming at first, but after a while he noticed that it did cover other sounds which might prove more dangerous. But he didn't expect anything to happen around here. They were approaching the eight hundred feet mark, and he doubted that many of the larger predators would make their homes in such an environment.

As he stepped along his dragging feet kicked up plumes of loose dirt which coated the ground. There was no grass here, despite the fact that the jungle started several meters away. The ground was hard, and cracked; it was almost like a real road. Something which he never thought he would appreciate until now.

Wu and Tim were now nearing the north-eastern tip of the island, an area where the mountain range tapered down to the low lying areas of the island. They had begun to move upwards from the hollowed out cone of the island, towards the outer rim. They had stumbled across a small path half a mile back, which seemed to have once been a road wide enough for vehicles, judging by the sparser growth of vines and bushes which lay on either side. Now it was merely a small path barely big enough for them to walk along, but it was still far faster than moving through the thickness of the rest of the jungle.

"How much farther?" said Wu, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with the cuff of his shirt.

Tim stopped and turned, breathing heavily, and after taking a glance around him, dropped to the ground. With a tired jerk he took his bag from around his back and ripped it open, the zip arcing upwards and out of sight.

He peered inside for a moment, and took out his now almost empty water bottle and set it aside. He then wrenched out an A4 sized topographical map of the island sealed in laminate. He laid it out in front of him, and then turned his head upwards, and looked through the thin layer of trees which obscured their view of the island's northern valley below them.

Wu turned away as Tim sorted himself out, and looked out down at the island. Towards the west, he saw the large collection of buildings which made up the visitor area. Guiterrez, Anderson and Edgar were somewhere down there. And Malcolm and Sarah were somewhere in that jungle, he thought, looking further south at the endless mass of trees extending into the distance.

Wu turned back to Tim, and watched his progress. Absent-mindedly Tim took the lid off his water bottle and took a swig of liquid, licking his lips as he switched his view repeatedly from the map to the valley.

After a minute or so his finger came to rest on a lightly green colored portion of the map in the top right corner, which lay just next to a jagged line.

"We're there?" said Wu.

"Yeah, thereabouts," Tim said, licking his lips.

"And we're trying to get to?"

"Right here," Tim grunted, pointing to a small grey block less than a few centimeters above where his finger had been a moment before.

Wu did a quick calculation in his head and estimated that they were less than a quarter of a mile from the garage. Looking at the map he saw a squiggly line running away from the block which symbolized the garage, heading north.

"Is that this path?"

Tim studied the image for a moment, and then shook his head slowly. "No, I think we're on this one." He indicated another line running parallel to the garage, passing within a hairline of it. "Even though the jungle's grown back since this map was made, there should only be a thin screening of trees between the road and the garage. If we follow the road we should find it within the next ten minutes as long as we keep moving.

Tim stood up, and placed the map within his bag, and hoisted it onto his back. He kept his water bottle in his hand however.

Wu took the lead, and they both headed off down the path again.

Wu took a glance backwards, and saw Tim's pale face glowing in the darkness of the canopy, sweat dripping from the bridge of his nose. Wu sensed a newfound sense of urgency, as time was starting to get short. The time which had elapsed was increasing by the second, in which the virus on the mainland was spreading from person to person. And they had to get to the control room as soon as possible. The sooner they could get to the cure, and the ability to send for help, the better. He was sure that another night on this island would kill him.

"Wu," whispered Tim.

Wu stopped in his tracks, and turned slowly, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Tim was looking at a large fern to his right, from which the light sound of moving water was emanating. Wu took a few slow steps towards him, and peered in for a closer look.

A tiny stream ran parallel to their path, hidden by the underbrush. And beside it was a tiny green lump, rising from the ground for just a foot or so before descending back into brown leaves. Slowly and rhythmically, the little lump was rising and falling.

"It's one of the animals," Wu whispered.

Tim nodded, and took a step closer. With a sharp _snap_ his foot came down a brittle twig, cleaving it in two.

The tiny figure gave a high pitched yelp, and leapt to its feet. It was roughly the size of a kitten, and had dark green patterns all over its back, running down to the tip of its tail.

It faced them and bent its head low to the ground, and opened its mouth to reveal a row of tiny teeth, giving a fierce hiss of aggression.

"What's that?" said Wu.

"You tell me, you're the master geneticist."

Wu shrugged. "I don't remember anything like that. But it was years ago. That could be an infant of any of the species, or a separate species."

"Well whatever it is, it's pissed."

The little dinosaur gave another yelp, and then turned around swiftly, darting away into the foliage. Within moments it had disappeared, and the sound of its footsteps quickly leaked away into silence.

To Wu's complete surprise Tim gave chase, launching himself from a standstill into the bushes after the little animal. Wu stood stock still for a moment, dumbfounded, and then dashed into the green blockade of leaves and branches, casting them aside with his palms.

Ahead of him he could hear Tim, and distantly he could hear the yelps of the tiny little animal, running for its life. At least it thought it was. In his state Tim was about as dangerous as a llama with arthritis.

The darkness was dense within the trees, and thin breeze was blocked out almost completely. It was hot and damp, and his nostrils were overwhelmed by the all too familiar stench of rotting vegetation.

"Wu!" shouted Tim from up ahead.

He felt a jolt in his heart, and put on a spurt. Within seconds he reached Tim, and burst out into the open once again. The sunlight glazed his skin once more, and the wind blew up his hair. They stood in the periphery of a field about ten meters across, the grass well above their waist line. On the other side, Wu saw a V shaped arcing disturbance in the grass for just a moment, before it was gone into the jungle.

"Did you get a look at what it was?" asked Wu.

"No," said Tim, "but it doesn't matter. We're here now."

The two men looked towards the rear of the small field laid out before them, observing the crumbling building which loomed over them. Like most of the other buildings that they had seen so far, the structure was made out of solid concrete. However, the entire front wall was made up of a corrugated retractable door. The building also had a second floor, and an overhanging balcony. However the higher story's roof had collapsed and now only the remnants of the walls remained standing. Vines were crawling up the crumbling grey concrete, and the garage door was heavily rusted.

"Looks good to me," said Tim. He seemed invigorated; his sweaty face was now full of energy. They both went forwards quickly, stamping down the tall grass in front of them.

Tim stepped out first onto a square of tarmac just in front of the large door, and glanced at a small box just to the side, with twin circular buttons built into it, one green and one red.

But the box was crusted, the wires hanging out.

Wu stepped out of the grass beside him, and watched Tim go to the edge of the door and reach down to the ground, bending his fingers underneath the lip.

Tim looked up at Wu, and nodded to the other side of the door. Wu ran over to where Tim had indicated, and bent down exactly as Tim had, placing his fingers underneath the door.

"One," said Tim under his breath, "two, and three."

They both heaved upwards, and the door gave an almighty screech of protest. It slid up just a few inches, and then stopped. It wouldn't budge.

Wu grunted, and pushed with all his might, and felt his entire body break out into a sweat.

To the side he heard Tim give a long, drawn out grunt, and then the door gave another screech, and all of a sudden slid upwards out of sight, leaving behind a dark abyss.

Wu stood up slowly, and then grinned.

Inside the garage were at least a dozen vehicles, neatly parked up in four rows. To the left there were two large flatbed trucks, covered in cobwebs. Further along there were four much smaller vehicles which looked a lot like golf carts. But what caught his eye were the six medium sized cars which to Wu looked like primitive versions of modern SUV's. They were a deep gleaming black color, and their back half had been enlarged slightly. They had strong shafts of a strong looking material built into the frame and chassis, and he guessed it was for structural integrity. Running along the roof there was a double row of glittering panels which looked like they were made out of glass or some kind of strange plastic.

"Yes," whispered Tim, walking over to the nearest one and sliding his hands over the bonnet.

"I heard all about these when I was working here. They were going to replace the gas powered vehicles around here."

"Yeah, they're a brilliant design. They have a small gas engine, and a battery pack in the back runs the electric pump engine. Also, the solar panels on the roof here feed directly into the system, so you're always topped up."

"But its dark in here," said Wu, "they won't have any juice in them."

Tim nodded, but he was still smiling. "Yes, I know. All we have to do is push it out into the field and watch the solar panels fill her up. Get the keys, will you," he said, pointing towards a large metallic cabinet set to one side towards the back of the cavernous space.

Wu strode across the room, weaving in and out of the rows of vehicles. He stepped over a large puddle which had formed in a small recession, and grabbed the handle of the cabinet. The rusted handle gave a squeal, and the entire door came off of the hinges, clattering to the ground.

Wu looked over at Tim, who was running his hands over the tires of the car, and shrugged. Peering inside he saw a large array of silver keys.

"Which ones are they?" he called, his voice echoing in the damp space.

"Top row," said Tim, cupping his hands over the driver's door window, staring into the interior.

"I have to say it's a shame this design didn't take. It's quite extraordinary," said Tim as Wu came back and inserted the key into the lock, and twisted it.

There was a mechanical click, and Tim pulled the latch on the door, popping the door open. Tim leapt in, and ran his hands over the steering wheel, then the dashboard, and peered down at the pedal for a moment.

"Good, good, looks good," he was murmuring. Wu walked around to the back of the car as Tim took the handbrake off, and climbed out to join him, slamming the door shut.

They braced their feet against the concrete floor, and then gave another heave, and put their full weight against the back of the vehicle, pushing against the boot.

Silently, and remarkably easily the car slid forwards over the tarmac floor, and rolled out onto the square of road in front of the building. The shadow of the building slid back past the front bonnet, and they were spurred on. They pushed the car past the tarmac, and into the tall grass, slowed somewhat by the tall vegetation. But they were determined, and slowly they managed to position the car in full sunlight.

Wu stood back to observe the vehicle, gleaming in the golden shafts of light. He couldn't help but feel a great sense of relief at the sight of such a normal object.

Tim was already climbing back inside, and Wu walked around to the other side, seating himself into the passenger seat. The leather was old and weathered, but it had lasted well in its unmoved condition, and it felt wonderfully soft on his body.

He reached down into his pack, and brought out their radio, and flicked it on, the power button glowing strongly.

"What are you doing?" asked Tim.

"It's time for a check-in," said Wu, glancing at his watch, "and we have the best of news. We just have to wait for them to turn on their radios."

Tim poked a screen which had been clipped to the dashboard, and Wu watched dumbly as it flickered once, and then slowly glowed to life.

"I'll be damned, these things were worth every penny," said Tim.

The display on the screen showed a battery shaped figure, which was empty, except for a sliver of bright red on the right side. It also listed the three power sources. The readings indicated that the gas tank was dry, and the electrical pack was depleted. There was only a trickle of power left. But to Wu's great relief he saw that the photoelectrical panels were slowly feeding in electrical energy. Before his eyes the power levels on the battery indicator rose. It was a tiny increase, roughly half a centimeter across on the display. But it went up.

They would be underway soon.

The radio crackled suddenly, and Anderson's voice filled the small space of the interior.

"Hello?"

Wu grabbed the radio, and pressed the transmit button. "Anderson, thank god. It's Wu."

"Are you ok?" said Tim.

There was a crackle, and Edgar's voice filtered over the radio distantly. "Define ok."

Anderson grunted, and then said, "Don't worry, we're all fine. Are you?"

Wu laughed, "Better than ok. Have you heard from Sarah?"

"I'm afraid not. We've been trying to reach all of you for hours."

"I know, we've been…busy. Where are you?"

"We're approaching the visitor area now; we should be there within the next twenty minutes. Where are you?"

"We're at the garage. We have the car."

There was a hiss of static, and what sounded like excited chattering on the other end. "That's great!" said Anderson's voice.

"Yeah," laughed Wu, "we're just charging the batteries, but we'll probably get there about the same time as you."

"Sounds good to me," said Guiterrez's voice. "We'll see you there."

The voices were then replaced with a hiss of static and then went dead. Wu clicked his off, and put it back into his bag. The power indicator went up once again, and he smiled to himself.

Tim put the keys into the ignition, and sat back in his seat, locking his hands behind his head and leaning back. "After walking around in that jungle, this thing feels like a tank," he said.


	44. Chapter 42: The Shroud

Chapter 42

**The Shroud**

There was fog everywhere. Thick, heavy fog; you could cut it with a knife. It clung tightly to the ground, and ascended in a seamless, continuous blanket upwards out of sight. The sky was turned an odd color, obscured by the white of the mist, to something which was often chosen as the ideal palette for an infant boy's room. The sun's burning rays had been reduced from an omnipresent fireball to a diminished comparative pinprick.

Guiterrez stumbled on a root sticking out of the ground as he walked along beside Anderson, with Edgar walking parallel to them, a little off to one side. He kept his concentration on trying to pick out shapes and oncoming objects in front of him, which was proving extremely difficult, and his eyes were beginning to water from the strain. His visibility had now been cut down to less than three feet; it was like walking through a cloud.

Condensation clung to his clothing and the tips of his hair follicles. The fog had just appeared out of nowhere ten minutes before; it had looked like a wall of ethereal pure material, like a giant marshmallow had fallen onto the island. He really didn't like the idea of walking through it; there could be anything in here, and they'd never see it until they were right on top of it. Even their footsteps seemed slightly deadened by the moisture in the air and ground, which meant that they wouldn't hear anything coming either.

Great, he thought.

After the Baryonyx had attacked them they hadn't stopped once, not even to collect more water. They had marched themselves north, and they hadn't missed a crack of a twig or the twitter of a bird. Everything now seemed like a threat.

But here it was weird. They hadn't even seen the seemingly ever-present Microceratops for hours; they hadn't seen anything at all since they had arrived in their current vicinity.

This wouldn't have bothered Guiterrez, because this had happened quite a lot before. It was quite a large island, and there were a lot of places to hide.

But what got to him was the quiet. It was silent here, piercingly so. There was no sound, at all. He could barely hear his own breathing; the air itself seemed to be heavier, like time had been slowed to a standstill. He didn't like it at all, because in this environment the slightest sound – the rustle of a leaf, a single distant birdsong – would send shivers up his spine.

Anderson hadn't lowered his weapon since they had entered the dense carpet of fog; he kept it moving in a continuous sweeping motion from left to right, in military precision.

The jungle had been left behind over twenty minutes before, and this area of the island seemed to have been extensively deforested at some point in the past. They now walked along through what seemed like an endless field of patchy grassland, with the jungle periphery around a hundred meters away on either side.

Edgar hadn't spoken a word to either of them since the attack, and neither of them felt much like striking up a conversation with him. He was just baggage as far as Guiterrez was concerned, if it wasn't for Anderson's moral compass, Martin would have left him behind.

As far as they could tell, they were moving north-west, along this 'highway field', which seemed to have been cleared for access to the visitor area. A few minutes earlier they had glimpsed the remains of the tattered perimeter fence, which had loomed out of the milky film like a ghost figure. According to Anderson they should now have entered the main configuration of where the buildings were positioned. They had arrived. The only problem was finding them in this fog.

"How do you think Sarah's doing?" Guiterrez said after a few more minutes of walking.

"I'm sure she's fine. We left her in the safest place we've come across. I'd be more concerned about Malcolm," said Anderson, stopped in his tracks and turning around to face the way they had come.

"What? Did you see something?" said Guiterrez, whipping his head around.

"No, but I think we've come too far north. You can see the tree line ahead of us. We must have already passed the buildings by without realizing it."

They all turned face and headed back the way they had come, now turning their heads from side to side to try and pick out the dark shape of a possible building against the whiteness.

"So why Malcolm?" said Guiterrez, resuming the conversation.

"Because he's sick, obviously," Anderson uttered, giving Martin an odd sideways glance.

"Yeah, but he's been given antivenin and antibiotics. And now probably morphine, so he should be getting better, right?"

"Maybe—"

Edgar's form had flown clear across Anderson and Guiterrez before they had even registered that he had moved, and he impacted the ground performing a scrabbling movement, like a crab which had been stabbed with a spear.

"What's wrong with you?" said Guiterrez, grudgingly extending his arm to haul Edgar to his feet.

"I thought there was a person in the mist for a second, maybe one of the guys in the car which you were talking about. But it disappeared. It ran off."

"So some small furry thing was walking around," started Guiterrez.

"How fast?" interjected Anderson, looking the way Edgar was indicating.

"Very…and it was pretty big. About as tall as you," said Edgar, pointing to Anderson's six foot tall frame.

Guiterrez peered inquisitively towards the direction from which Edgar had flown, but to no surprise he saw nothing but plain, endless fog.

They both looked at Edgar for a moment, who looked flustered and defensive. "Don't stare at me like that! It was there!" he shouted.

Guiterrez felt a shiver run all the way up his body, from his toes to the top of his head, as Edgar's voice radiated outwards into the nothingness which surrounded them, echoing back from all directions as it bounced off the jungle and the thickness of the fog. After a few seconds the echoes stopped, and were replaced by deathly silence, and all Guiterrez could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.

Anderson slapped Edgar around the head in irritation and bent lower for a moment, swerving in a full circle, his weapon trained all around them.

There was nothing there.

"What did I do?" growled Edgar, "there's fuck all out here—"

A single, reptilian snarl rose from the silence, and Edgar's voice petered out into a high pitched strangling sound as his throat constricted. The sound was gone again within a moment, by which time every hair on Guiterrez's body had stood on end.

A swishing sound from the opposite direction made them all wheel around in unison, and then the sound of light, pattering footsteps faded in from nothingness, and traced from behind them to their right side before dissipating.

There was something here.

Two minutes later Anderson had marched them another hundred meters south, back the way they had come in search of the buildings. They wasted no time now; it was becoming a twisted game; find the buildings before whatever was out there found them.

They had heard nothing else since Edgar had stopped talking, but now the damage was done, and Guiterrez's mind was preying on him. Everything now seemed like an unknown aggressor, coming to get them.

He couldn't help but run over the sounds they had heard over and over again in his mind, trying to figure out what kind of thing it had been. The pace of the footsteps had been fast, almost too fast. It couldn't have been anything very large, and it must have been very powerful to move at such a speed. And Edgar had said it had been about six feet tall. In his mind Guiterrez formed a myriad of terrifying images; memories of the monsters from his nightmares were burned onto his mind's eye.

Before, his face had been relatively cool in comparison to the rest of his time on the island, as the fog blocked out the sun's rays and the evaporating condensation was refreshing. Now he was covered in a layer of sweat, and his breathing was shallow.

Anderson tapped his shoulder silently, and pointed off to their right. His heart skipped a beat as he thought their potential assailant had been spotted, but as his eyes focused the corner of a single story concrete structure loomed out of the mist.

It was barely ten feet away, but Guiterrez could only just make it out. A small light was fixed to the side of the building near the roof, which was the only reason they could see it.

"What's that?" whispered Edgar.

"Looks like a shed…a ridiculously overbuilt shed," said Guiterrez.

"It's probably the maintenance shed," murmured Anderson, walking forwards. Guiterrez followed him, but a second later Anderson had stopped.

"What is it?"

"There's a chain link fence here, it's hard to see, but it's here."

Anderson cocked his head, and Guiterrez guessed he was trying to see the building better. He then turned around and took his pack from his shoulder and passed it to Guiterrez.

"Get out the radio. And make sure the volume is turned down."

Guiterrez took the pack and set it down, unzipping it as quietly as possible. He rooted around for a second, and then brought out the radio. Adjusting the volume panel slightly, he then flicked the power button, and a seemingly distant hiss of static was emitted from the speakers.

He pressed the transmit button, and spoke into it just loud enough to be sure that his voice would be heard over static. "Wu, are you there? Tim?"

A crackling sound broke through the silence around them, and Guiterrez winced, peering around himself fretfully. And then Tim's voice broke through the static.

"-What is it?" he said.

"Shh," whispered Guiterrez into the mouthpiece, "it's not safe around here at the moment. We're at the maintenance shed, but the entire area is covered in fog, and we can't see more than a few feet in front of us."

For a few seconds there was nothing but silence, and then Tim's voice spoke again, now quieter and softer.

"If you're at the shed, then you should be at the periphery of the jungle on the eastern side."

Guiterrez saw Anderson and Edgar nod behind him, and he turned, his eyes coming to rest on a cluster of ferns running in a near straight line, and a few twigs and leaves poking out of the mist almost twenty feet up, indicating that the owner trees were just out of sight.

"That's right," Guiterrez said into the radio.

"Good. Turn one-eighty to the shed; you'll be facing the area where the visitor centre should be."

"Alright, thanks. What's your progress?"

"Solar panels are almost charged, we'll be ready to go in minutes. It shouldn't take us more than quarter of an hour to get over to you if we take the northern road out of here."

"See you soon then," said Guiterrez, looking into the fog opposite the shed.

"Right."

The radio clicked, and went silent. Guiterrez flicked the power off, and stowed the radio in the bag. Anderson had moved off in the direction of the visitor centre, and Guiterrez stumbled as he hurried to get to his feet. Edgar was close behind, looking around them warily.

In the distance a bird shrieked, and there was a clattering sound of snapping branches, following swiftly by the sound of rapid fluttering. They all froze for an instant, crouching lower instinctively, their eyes swiveling in their sockets looking for the source of the disturbance.

"What was-?" began Edgar.

"Quiet," hissed Anderson.

The silence resumed, but they didn't move an inch for over a minute. Guiterrez's muscles ached from the tension and from remaining in the same position for such an extended period of time. His knees here jerking in odd shakes, caused by his inadequately balanced stance.

Anderson reached up to his rifle with his free hand, and as quietly as possible took the safety switch off, and then nodded to them, moving off slowly.

Guiterrez tried to control his breathing, and followed at the same pace, flexing his legs as he went to relieve the tension.

They were close to their objective now, very close. The fact that the fog was here alone was simply unfair, but this new threat waiting for them out there was just taking the piss. It was like running the hundred meter sprint and then having the finish line moved during the last ten meters. Just when things seemed to be looking up, another thing comes in and it all goes pear shaped. It just never stopped in this place.

He felt his eyes widen as he realized that up ahead the fog was thinning out, the endless milky substance becoming more akin to wispy smoke. It wasn't much of an improvement, but their visual range was cut from almost zero to twenty feet or more. They had exited the marshmallow, as it seemed. Above them the sun filtered down just a little stronger, allowing them enough light to keep them from squinting.

On the other hand it made everything all the spookier. Everything around them seemed to have a thin layer of mist clinging to it, the wispy substance arcing and swirling in the air currents.

Out of the thick nothingness emerged a scene which would have been at home in a ghost town. Two meters before them was a peaceful looking pond, the surface undisturbed except for the ripples created by the feet of dragonflies. A few lily pads floated lazily across the surface of the green water.

On the other side of the pond was a large road which had an odd metallic bar running along the middle, which lay horizontal to where they stood, disappearing into the fog on both sides. Behind the road however was what drew their attention. An impressively designed two story building towered over them, cloaked in fog. The concrete walls still appeared solid after a decade, and it was still clear that the entrance had once been ornately carved.

They had arrived at the visitor centre.


	45. Chapter 43: Reunited

Chapter 43

**Reunited**

With a whooshing, vacuum-like noise the engine sprang to life as Tim twisted the ignition key. It was the quietest engine that he had ever encountered, or even heard of; if he hadn't been concentrating on it, he wouldn't have noticed that it had been turned on. After ignition the sound dissipated into a soft, almost inaudible purr, and the display on the screen beeped, and an additional component appeared. In the bottom left the battery shaped representation of the power levels were well within the green, and the solar panels were working like a charm. Above the power levels had appeared an image of the underside of the chassis, with the four wheels lit in bright green, with the power flow shown by the routers leading from the engine.

"Impressive," said Wu.

Tim nodded in agreement. He wouldn't mind having one of these back home at all. He slowly turned the steering wheel, testing it, and found that it worked fine, maybe a bit stiff. Tentatively, he put the car in gear, and took his foot off the brake. With a whir the car began to roll forwards through the tall grass, and he smiled.

"Over there," said Wu, pointing to a gap in the trees, on the other side of the clearing than they had come from. That must be the northern road.

He put his foot on the accelerator lightly, turning the steering wheel until it locked. The car accelerated around in an arc through the clearing, and he could see in the wing-mirror that they had left a twin trail of flattened grass behind them. The gap in the trees appeared in the windscreen, and they floated almost silently forwards towards it. The crunching of the grass beneath them was in fact louder than the engine, and the thick windows blocked out the ceaseless sounds of the jungle. It was now oddly quiet; Tim hadn't heard such a thing as silence for what seemed like forever.

The grass ended abruptly, and was replaced by a track of thick mud, easily wide enough for them to pass through. It looked like it had once been wide enough for the larger maintenance vehicles that they had seen earlier in the garage, but now the jungle had grown back significantly. Roots reared out of the ground, and weeds were poking through the brown, tarmac-like compacted surface of the road.

As they crossed the threshold and left the grass, the ground ahead seemed to fall away. A moment later he realized that the road sloped downwards out of sight. The car crested the hill, and he looked down into the darkness of the jungle. He touched the brakes lightly, slowing their descent, and they plunged into the darkness. The display panel beeped, and indicated that the solar panels had been switched off. But he wasn't concerned about it; they wouldn't be out of sunlight for more than a few minutes, and they had enough stored energy in the battery for far longer than that.

"Can we turn on the air conditioning?" said Wu, squirming uncomfortably.

"We need power for that, why don't you roll down the window?"

"Erm, I'm not too keen on that idea; I'd hate to get eaten now. And it's too hot."

He was right, sitting in the sun long enough to charge the batteries had turned the cool leather interior of the car to a sticky, stuffy box.

Hell, they were going downhill, they didn't need power to drive along. Tim flicked a switch on the dashboard, and a wonderful feeling of glee overcame him and blissfully cool air washed over him. He hadn't felt something so relieving in his life, he could have sworn it. The sweat on his face immediately began to dry, and his head felt like it was giving off waves of heat. Beside him Wu had leaned in closer to the dashboard, the fringe of his hair blown upwards, turning his face from side to side.

The gradient of the hill was becoming quiet steep, and Tim didn't even have to use the gas pedal; he just let the car roll down the hill, occasionally touching the brakes.

It felt liberating to fly down this hill in such a safe piece of machinery, it felt almost like being at a safari park. A stupidly dangerous safari park full of monsters.

The car burst from the jungle as the hill leveled out, gliding out onto a large plateau like space, covered with occasional patches of short, cropped grass. The road was cracked and hard baked, and seemed to have been preserved, probably because of their altitude. Looking left Tim was momentarily shocked. They were over a thousand feet up in the air, running along the edge of a cliff face attached to the northern mountains of the island. Below them the entire island was laid out before them, stretching out to the south. Even from here Tim could see what Guiterrez had meant; the majority of the northern section of the island was almost invisible, sheathed in a thick layer of fog. It was as if the sky had fallen, and the clouds had descended on the jungle. It was eerie to look at it from up here. To their right the plateau continued on for a hundred meters or so before the mountains continued up into the sky sharply, out of sight of his window pane. A fine layer of mist crept downwards from the mountain side, and almost seemed to slither across the plateau surface, before rolling off the side of the cliff face, down towards the island interior.

Towards the south the jungle poked through and formed an endless carpet of greenery, running out of sight. In any normal situation he would have considered it serenely beautiful, but for reasons he could not explain it seemed very…alien.

They drove around the northern edge of the island for around ten minutes, the almost perpetual flatness of the ground allowing for very easy travel. The lack of vegetation was calming, and the free availability of sunlight without the restricting tree canopy ensured that their electricity supply remained topped up. The ridge road slowly began to descend on a very slight gradient, sloping downwards. Off to one side Tim could see that the road raveled up into a back and forth motion down the cliff face down towards the island floor, a mile away.

The slope continued downwards for another minute, and then an immense slab of rock jutted out from the mountain side, and would have impeded their progress. However a large tunnel had been bored through the rock face, connecting with the other side.

Tim flicked on the headlights just before they passed into it, and twin pools of light were cast on the gravel coated floor and the jagged walls. The sunlight was cut out abruptly, and the only light available came from their car and from the soft glow at the other end of the tunnel. However, before the display panel had a chance to register that the solar panels were no longer receiving sunlight, they had passed out of the opposite end of the tunnel, and back into daylight. They were now only at half the height, roughly five hundred feet up from the floor of the island. The plateau had now disappeared, left behind at the other end of the tunnel.

Wu grunted in surprise as up on the right a large recess had been excavated into the rock face, starting approximately fifty feet from where the tunnel ended. A ten foot high, cyclone wire fence had been erected, running parallel with where the rock face would have stood had the recess not existed, however now it was severely weathered by standing up in the elements for so long.

The cavernous space had jagged walls and gouging marks all over it; machines had obviously dug or blasted their way through the rock. It was a considerable feat of engineering, and it should have been judging by what lay within it. The metal framework of a six story building towered above them, the dull rusted metal blending almost seamlessly into the mountain. Large scaffolding structures and ragged pieces of tarpaulin drooped from the clammy structures. The first floor had been almost completed, the walls sealed with thick cement and the beginning of sophisticated, new age style carved wood panels had been layered over the top. The rest of the floors were open space, with only the second story having a floor made from wooden paneling.

Tim tapped the brakes lightly until the vehicle slid smoothly to a standstill, and the car sat quietly the sunlight for a moment as they turned to observe the building.

"Looks like the Iguanodon Inn," said Wu.

"Yeah," said Tim. "I've seen the conceptual designs for this place; it would have looked pretty snazzy if it had ever been finished. It was built to cater for well over a hundred; helipad on the roof, perimeter fence, and every amenity that you could ask for. It would have replaced the safari lodge eventually, or rather, formed a more permanent base. This place is a hotel."

As they watched three of the little dinosaurs that they had seen at the garage leapt from a large cluster of ferns gathered around an abandoned forklift off to one side. The mist that layered the floor obscured most of their bodies, and only the top of their torso, neck and heads were visible. Two of them screeched, and bent their heads low, opening their tiny jaws and chasing the other one. They sprinted across the allotment before the 'prey' tripped over and disappeared from view into the mist, and the other two were on it in seconds. For a moment Tim thought they were going to attack it, but they simply squeaked in excitement and danced around their kin.

"It's those things again," said Tim in annoyance.

"What do you think they are?" Wu murmured, peering out of the window intently.

"They don't look like any of the animals listed to be here. But the photo's I've seen are only of adult specimens. You're the master Doc here; you saw them when they were just infants. What do you think?"

"They remind me of the Compies, but they're larger and tougher. Perhaps they're Metriacanthosaurus infants, the coloration isn't that off."

Tim nodded, but he didn't feel very satisfied. It was reasonable thinking, but it didn't fit. Compies were too small, and the Metria would have had infants far larger, not to mention the fact that the Metria that they had encountered lived miles away, on the valley floor.

"Maybe they're not from here," said Wu suddenly.

Tim turned, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"The Pterosaurs aren't indigenous to this island. They came here from Isla Sorna, which had a far larger compliment of dinosaurs."

Tim shook his head. "The Pterosaurs flew here, that's the only reason they were able to travel the distance. These guys," he indicated the wingless lizards frolicking on the other side of the dilapidated fence, "cannot fly."

Wu sat for a moment, and then raised his hands. "I don't know then. The only other thing I can think of is the ra-"

A low pitched, almost inaudible growl cut through the air and the vehicle's windows like a hot knife through butter. The dinosaurs, which had been playing right in front of the double doors of the building, froze instantly. They didn't make a sound, they just stood absolutely still.

After a moment they gave a triple version of the same growl, the sound vibrating through the air effortlessly. Tim and Wu turned in their seats in shock as a loud screech blasted from a grove of trees behind them. The infants screeched back instantly, and began to slink off slowly, like children who had been caught in wrongdoing. They nimbly hopped up onto the large base of the fence and wriggled through the wiring, hopping down onto the ground ten meters behind the Jeep.

Wu and Tim watched them tensely for a minute before the screech came again, this time from somewhere within the building, on the first floor, out of sight.

"Come on," said Wu, looking warily out of the glass of the car, "let's get out of here."

Tim nodded, and took his foot off the brake, accelerating sharply away from the Inn. The wheels span for a moment before biting, a cloud of dirt spewing up into the sky. The car's engine became slightly louder, which for some reason felt more reassuring to Tim, and they drove once again along the mountain side.

Tim tapped the brakes and slowed the car as the road ahead turned at a complete right angle in front of them. They had been driving for several minutes, and had reached the end of the mountain road. Three hundred feet above the valley floor, the road twisted and turned beneath them, zigzagging downwards. A thin metal guardrail was the only safety measure which had been put in place to prevent the vehicle from wandering too far off the track and falling headlong into the jungle.

Tim breathed slowly as he turned the wheel in a broad, smooth motion, and the nose of the vehicle swung around the one hundred and eighty degree turn. The road began to slope downwards steeply, and Tim applied the brakes heavily as the potholes and pebbles made them jump and bounce precariously on the edge on the cliff face. The suspension squealed, and Tim cursed as he stamped on the brakes as the next turn encroached rapidly on them. The car skidded on the dirt as they floated dangerously around the corner, the bumper grazing the guardrail.

"_Je-sus!_" growled Wu in agitation, gripping the seat with one hand and the dashboard with the other.

Tim gripped the steering wheel grimly as he swung around once again, the engine whining momentarily as the rear axle came off the ground as they rumbled over a large rock.

Glancing over the island for an instant, the world seemed to be shaking around him, and he was only dimly aware of the fact that they were almost at the bottom. Just one last corner.

Determined, Tim glared at the next turn as if it were a charging bull, and he was the matador. Three seconds, two, one. _Boom!_ The front wheel on the right side plummeted down a concealed, deep crack in the ground. The wheels screamed in protest as the cabin jerked upwards. Beside him Wu's head slammed into the ceiling, his body falling back into his seat in a bundle.

"Argh!" shouted Tim as he hauled the steering wheel to the side, and the car swerved to the side, but it's momentum kept it careening forwards. Tim closed his eyes, and felt a rattling jolt as they slammed into the guardrail, the metal squealing as it came into contact with the driver's door. The car came to sudden stop, and the engine spluttered into silence.

Tim opened his eyes, and exhaled slowly.

"I'm not sure exactly what your grandfather did to this island to piss off Mother Nature," mumbled Wu from the space beneath his seat, "but whatever it was, we're paying for it."

Tim peered out of his window, and shuddered. The guardrail had been bent out of shape by the impact, and now held the car in place, which was hanging over the lip of the cliff. He was looking down three hundred feet at the valley below. From here he could see the fog which sheathed the ground, floating in between the trees, carried on the wind. Half a mile away he could see the black silhouettes of the roofs of the buildings poking through the roof of the mist. They were very close now.

He pushed the gas pedal, but nothing happened; the speedometer remained at a standstill. He reached down, and turned the ignition. With a whoosh the vacuum pump started up, and the car gave a shiver, coming back to life. The movement triggered another squelching sound from the guardrail.

"Hurry up, get up out of here, or we'll have to grow some wings real quick," said Wu, leaning against his window to counterbalance the car.

Carefully Tim put the car in gear, and in a single moment stamped on the accelerator and turned the wheel all the way towards Wu. The single pair of wheels which were touching the ground whirred, and slowly began to move forwards, the gravel crunching under the tires. He stamped on the accelerator, and the car roared sideways, and kept on course by the railings the second pair of wheels slammed back onto the ground. They jolted forwards just as the rail behind them gave a wrench, and the steel fittings came loose, the metal sent clattering down the side of the mountain.

Tim sat for a moment, staring down at the jungle, sweating pouring down his face.

"That was close," said Wu.

"Yeah," said Tim. He looked at the display panel for a moment, noting that the solar panels were fully charged. Lightly, he stepped onto the gas, and they edged downwards to towards the dirt trail which led into the jungle below.

The engine hummed quietly as they slid effortlessly through the jungle, the only sound to be heard was the odd squawk of a jungle bird or twigs breaking on the ground underneath them. The fog had been encroaching on them slowly for the past minute, but Tim skidded to a stop at the sight of the wall of fog which lay before them. It appeared to be almost solid, a swirling mass of pristine whiteness.

"Weird," said Tim, looking at it with distain.

"This happened every so often," said Wu, "you couldn't see anything outside through the windows."

"Great."

Tim moved the car off slowly, the engine rumbling, passing into the fog. Their viewing distance was cut right down to just a dozen meters or so. The vegetation around them took on a more ghostly appearance. Tim had to be careful to make sure that he stayed on the right path; just seeing the road was now difficult enough.

A moment later the trees gave way, moving off on either side, and they entered a large clearing, stretching away in front of them. Tim sighed, and looked out at the grassy plain. They drove on, through the fog. To their left a fence loomed out of the whiteness, twelve feet high and made of heavy bars panted black, a layer of wiring mesh lying in between them. Behind it he could see the silhouette of an elaborate, single-story building running across a large area. A twin set of pyramid shaped structures poked their way above the roof-line.

"The safari lodge," said Wu.

"Look at it," said Tim. "It looks pretty good."

The fence still looked strong and safe, and the building hadn't crumbled whatsoever. It was as if the building hadn't been sitting unkempt for over a decade at all. It almost looked new.

They drove on, and the jungle closed in on them again, and they followed a narrow path leading south.

Suddenly Wu twisted around in his seat, pressing his face up against the window, his breath steaming up the glass.

"What is it?" said Tim, putting on the brakes. The red light caused by the brake lights was carried by the mist, causing an odd glow around the vehicle.

"Thought I saw something," said Wu.

Tim leaned over and looked through his window. He saw the back edge of the safari lodge, dog and trees. But nothing else.

Wu stared out of the window for a few more seconds, and then turned back to Tim, shrugging. "My mind must be playing trucks on me."

Tim looked at him for a moment. Of all of them Wu had been closest to knowing the full truth, but only Tim had access to the InGen data, and the satellite data which had been collected over the past decade.

Tim turned back to face forwards, and stepped on the accelerator, and the car moved off once again. They drove through the thickness of the jungle for two minutes, the path twisting and turning. Tim flicked on the headlights, which helped to cut through the fog, and he followed the twin beams along the overgrown path, his eyes flitting back and forth as he watched out for any corners or overhanging branches.

The radio crackled from the floor underneath Wu, in the space where he had fallen when they had crashed on the cliff. Wu bent down and picked up it.

"We hear you," said Guiterrez's voice quietly.

Wu smiled next to him. "How? This car is quieter than anything I've ever seen," he said into the mouthpiece.

"As silent as it is out here in the fog, you can hear a pin drop."

"Where are you?" said Tim, turning the wheel in his hands.

"The visitor centre. The engine sounds louder, so you're going in the right direction."

Tim accelerated, and they burst out into a seconds clearing. Immediately, a structure reared out of the mist in front of them. Even though half sheathed in the ground-based cloud layer, it was unmistakably a prison.

The raptor holding pen was as imposing as it had ever been, and had been so strongly constructed that even today it would make an impressive containment facility. The wiring which surrounded the perimeter of the ceiling had a large tear at one point, the thick wires bent out of shape and charred. Above on the watchtower, spotlights hung loosely from their fittings, the electronics exposed. One of the railings had come loose, claw marks gouged into it.

But neither of them noticed this. They attention was focused on the viewing platform. The usually uniform grey pattern of the concrete had been completely overlaid by arcing, deep red smears of blood. Claw marks had been cut into the walls at various points. And on the metallic grate floor were what would once have been living organisms. Now they were merely a mass of rotting flesh.

"Oh my god," breathed Wu.

Tim merely sat and observed the carcasses, feeling a very real shiver run up his spine. So it was true. They were here.

The car pulled up at the visitor centre silently, and Tim looked up at Anderson, Guiterrez and Edgar standing like sentinel ghosts at the top of the concrete staircase leading to the double doors. Wu popped the door open beside him and emerged into the mist. Even though the mist had caused the temperature to drop in this area, Tim wrinkled his face in discomfort as warm, humid air rushed into the car, destroying their air conditioned environment.

He sighed, and turned the engine off. He climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut.

"Finally," said Guiterrez. "Can we please do what we came to do?"

Tim smiled, and nodded. "Oh yes."


	46. Chapter 44: Online

Chapter 44

**Online**

With a creak the large wooden double doors of the visitor centre slowly opened. The wood splintered under the strain of the movement, and the loud _cracks_ made unsettling booms which floated into the cavernous space before them, echoing off the walls.

Anderson wiped his hand clean of the grime which had accumulated on the door after so long. Wu, Tim, Guiterrez and Edgar stood slightly behind him, apprehensive to approach all of a sudden. They were arcing their necks and peering into the building before them, but they waited for him to lead them in.

The mist outside had been very thick, and even though it had filtered into the visitor centre somewhat, he was startled by the clarity of his vision. The fog outside seemed to clog and distort everything. Now everything was in sharp focus. Not that it did much use, as it became very dark after the first ten feet past the doorway.

Anderson raised his rifle to eyelevel, and clicked on the light attached underneath the barrel. He shielded his eyes as a strong beam shone into his face, and he faced the rifle forwards into the building. A strong pool of light appeared on the floor, and a steady beam cut through the building until it hit the opposite wall. The original paneled, glossy floor showed through in patches, but it was mostly covered in a thick growth of vines and leaves. Other detritus and dirt was liberally smattered around the foliage and on the walls. From the ceiling the roots of several plants hung suspended in mid air, and somewhere out of sight a dull dripping sound echoed placidly. And to cap it off a thin layer of mist was slowly creeping into the building through the doorway, crawling along close to the ground.

Anderson took ten steps into the building, his footsteps accompanied by the crunching of plant matter. He slowly trained the shaft of light from left to right, and then did so again, higher up. Firstly, he saw a mural which adorned the majority of the back wall. It had a few vines smeared on it, but other than that it was in good condition, covered by a laminate screen. It showed a jungle scene, with a scattered herd of Parasaurolophus feeding peacefully. Off to one side however, several man-sized predators skulked in the underbrush, ambushing them. In the light they seemed very lifelike, and Anderson moved the light on quickly.

Two cracked, concrete bases stood solitary in the middle of the room, but he didn't know what they were for, and moved on.

An elaborate, spiral staircase led upwards to the second level, the design futuristic and sleek. But now it has heavily covered in dust, and the expensive wooden banister was crumbling. Moving the light upwards slightly Anderson could see the second level. It extended all the way around the back wall, and several corridors could be seen extending further into the building.

Looking upwards, he could see that the roof was well over sixty feet above them, a cascade of water droplets falling towards the ground in one place.

There was a definite sense of luxury, despite the dilapidation.

"This place is creepy," said Guiterrez from behind him, his voice booming off the walls.

"Feel free to go back outside then," said Anderson, glancing back at them for a moment. Guiterrez looked struck for a moment, and then shrugged.

Wu was observing the structure with interest, as if he were seeing an old friend. Edgar gave a whistle, admiring the architecture of the building.

Tim hadn't moved from the doorway, and wasn't looking around like everybody else. He had a troubled look on his face, and was staring at the floor of the rotunda before them.

Anderson frowned, and turned back to face forwards, and cast the light on the ground before them.

Guiterrez and Edgar leapt backwards as the remains of two immense skeletons were thrown into sharp relief. They were in pieces scattered fairly evenly across the floor, yet they retained their basic shape. The first was long and thin, the skull massive and filled with razor sharp fangs.

The second skeleton was even longer, the tail arcing around in a circle, yet it was noticeably heavier built and rounder, ending in a tiny head.

"Don't worry;" said Wu, "they were display pieces. They weren't real animals."

"Thank you, I feel so much better now," said Guiterrez, eyeing up the fangs on the head of the first skeleton.

"What's that then?" murmured Anderson, shaking his light over several small areas on the ground around the skeletons. The thick marble tiling on the ground had cracked and disintegrated in places, forced down into the earth by almost a meter, making miniature craters.

"Must have been the Tyrannosaur," said Tim. "It weighs seven tons, easily. It could have caused the floor to buckle like that."

"I thought you said they weren't real animals," said Edgar, scratching his head.

"No, not this Tyrannosaur; one of the animals out in the park."

"It was in here?" said Guiterrez uncomfortably, looking around.

"Yeah, it did."

"Where from?" asked Wu, and then said, "Ooh," and looked to his left.

Anderson swung the light over, and a forty foot high hole in the wall was revealed bored into the side of the building, the tattered remains of a blue tarpaulin clinging to its periphery.

"How did that happen?" he said.

"It didn't; the visitor centre was still under construction."

"Ah."

They all moved forwards, Anderson still checking the area around them with his rifle's light. The area outside the light's beam was surprisingly dim; almost pitch black despite the brightness of the sun outside. Even though the large hole in the wall remained, all that could be seen outside was a thick layer of fog and the hint of the jungle behind. The fog whipped around in the air currents, and played tricks on their minds in the darkness.

A loud, drawn out creak emanated from the large double doors behind them as they autonomously floated closed, followed by a deep _boom _as they rattled closed. The air seemed to vibrate momentarily due to the echoes, and a cloud of dust floated down from the ceiling.

"What's on the ground floor?" said Anderson.

There was a momentary pause, and then Tim's voice said, "Nothing important. Offices, storage and a staff lounge."

"And the second floor?"

"Pretty much everything else. A kitchen, dining room, staff department offices, genetics laboratory, Hatchery, Nursery, and the control room."

"So that's where we need to go," said Anderson, and walked off towards the bottom of the staircase. He stepped carefully around the scattered bones of the skeletons, ignoring the crunching sounds beneath his feet.

The light swung slightly as he walked along, causing the shadows to grow and move, creating the effect of an ominous shape approaching.

Behind him Edgar made a noise of surprise, and there was a halt in the footsteps as the others heard him and stopped. Anderson turned and saw Edgar crouched on the ground, holding up a six inch, curved, sickle like claw in his hand, holding it up to the light of Anderson's rifle.

"There's a whole bunch of smaller bones here," said Guiterrez, observing the ground in front of Edgar. He was right; a collection of smaller, almost human sized bones adorned the space next to one of the pillars which had held up the display skeletons. The collection was mixed up, there was no form; it was simply a pile of bones.

"Come on," said Tim, walking off towards the staircase, his form disappearing into the darkness.

Anderson turned and followed him, beckoning to the others. He saw Edgar shrug, his hands slipping into his pockets. They approached the staircase, the finish still gleaming in the light through the coat of dust.

They travelled upwards steadily, and their footsteps sounded hollow and loud in the near silence which surrounded them. The stairs creaked and groaned as they stepped on them, but they held firm. As they neared the halfway point, Guiterrez gave a grunt.

"What is it?"

"There's another one of those skeletons here," said Guiterrez, poking a long femur bone with his foot. He leaned over the banister, and nodded. "There're more bones down there too," he said. "Whatever it was, it must have died here, leant over the banister."

"What do you think they are?" said Anderson.

"Beats me," said Wu quietly.

"You're supposed to be the expert," said Guiterrez, dusting his shoe off.

"I'm a geneticist, not a biologist," Wu snapped defensively.

Anderson sped up slightly, overtaking Tim, and trained his rifle at the balcony above them as they followed the stairs around in a semicircle until they reached the second level.

They were now around twenty feet up, looking down into the rotunda. Oddly, Anderson felt more secure up here. It was like lifting your feet off the ground when a mouse was crawling around.

Still, the sight of the mist creeping into the building underneath the crack of the main double doors was creepy in the light.

"Where's control?" he said.

Tim pointed off to their right, towards one of the wide, dark corridors. Anderson nodded, and moved off towards it, casting roots and vines out of their path with the barrel of his gun, keeping his eyes watchful.

The ceiling leaked here too, and water rained down on their shoulders. There was no signs of life up here aside from the roots above them, there wasn't even any detritus on the floor; it was pretty clean considering it had been over a decade since the cleaner had been around. They turned a corner, and entered the wide corridor.

The walls were painted a uniform sterile white color, with the off crawler winding its way through the cemented ceiling. Anderson swung his light over the floor, revealing a film of grime coating the artificial material. The corridor extended for a considerable distance into the building, stretching away out of the pool of night into darkness. Doors lined both sides of the walls at intervals every few meters or so.

"Which one?" said Guiterrez from somewhere behind him.

"None of these," said Wu, "keep going."

They all moved off, stalking along behind Anderson, leaving the darkened, fog cloaked rotunda behind. Anderson read off the label tags on the doors as they walked past them, the stenciled writing lime green.

'_Public Relations', 'Administration', 'Warden's Office'. _

They had small, simple locks on them, and were made of flimsy wooden material; and appeared to be nothing more than working space, perks of high status jobs. He didn't bother looking inside them, and nobody else seemed that much interested either. Tim came up to walk alongside him, walking with a strange look on his face.

"Something wrong?" he said.

Tim didn't react for a moment, and then shook his head slowly. He seemed to be walking through the corridor as if it would infect him; he walked stiffly and mechanically.

Anderson glanced up ahead again before looking back at Tim, catching a fleeting glance of more doors, the end of the corridor still not in sight. For a moment he was reminded of a scene in a film he had seen, where the characters walked down an endless corridor of doors. He remembered the walls were white in the film too, although they were much brighter.

Tim was frowning now, a strained tension playing across his cheeks.

"Memories?" murmured Anderson.

Tim nodded slightly, but didn't say anything.

Anderson looked back forwards, and then to his surprise the pool of light in front of him flared outwards as the walls expanded to the sides, and the corridor came to an end. They came to the entrance of a large room; which had once been a very pleasant diner-like restaurant setting. The wooden chairs and tables looked expensive, and were carved articulately. But now they were covered in dust, long strands of cobwebs draped over their darkened forms. Two of the chairs were toppled over; their pieces sprawled over the thick carpet.

All around them, the walls were painted in the same mural scene which they had seen downstairs in the rotunda; the Parasaurolophus feeding in almost the same pose. However the image was longer and more elaborate given the larger space of the room. And the image seemed to glow slightly; Anderson suspected that the pain glowed in the dark. Two other corridors led off in different directions on either side of the hallway from which they had just come.

The opposite wall had a sturdy, steel door built into it, a circular section of window glass cut into it at eye level.

"What's in there?" said Anderson, pointing to the large door.

"A kitchen," said Wu, laughed Wu, "they had the most amazing ginger ice cream."

Tim pointed to the corridor on their left.

"Left to control," he said.

Andersons swung his light over, and saw that it led only a short way before the floor disappeared, but the pool of light didn't extend beyond that.

"Right to genetics," Tim was saying, pointing in the opposite direction.

Swinging his light over once more, Anderson glimpsed a clean, long corridor extending away into the distance.

"Which one do we take?" he said.

Wu gave a grunt. "Go to control."

Anderson shrugged, and looked at Guiterrez and Edgar, who were standing on the left side of the group. Guiterrez looked disgruntled for a moment, and then gave a cough, before moving off towards the staircase. Edgar however edged backwards towards Wu.

Anderson gave him a look before walking past him with Guiterrez.

"Be my guest, go right into the dark old death-hole," murmured Edgar from behind.

"Shut it for a bit," said Tim, his footsteps heavy and deliberate.

Guiterrez was looking around in an interested fashion, staring down at the carpet, and then up at the walls. He was like a small child in a colorful environment.

"What's wrong with you?" said Anderson, smiling as he trained the spotlight over the area in which the floor seemingly disappeared up ahead.

"Nice change of scenery," said Guiterrez, "after being in the magic forest for that long, even this haunted mansion seems like a decent place to stay. You think I could find an ice-cold beer somewhere around here?"

As Anderson grinned the pool of light ahead dipped down, and a short staircase was revealed, leading down into another corridor which extended off out of sight. At the foot of the stairs, on the left wall was an extensive, large window which ran several meters across. The double layered glass had wire meshing running through it for extra structural integrity. However, a great hole had been bored straight though the glass, easily large enough for a person to fit through. The pieces of broken glass still littered the floor, untouched. Next to the window was a strong, steel door glistening in the light, bearing a surprisingly large locking mechanism which looked like it belonged to a prison.

"Looks like it'd be at home in a bank vault," said Guiterrez.

"How did that happen?" said Wu quietly, indicating the broken glass.

"How do you think?" said Tim, pattering down the flight of steps down, his feet clanging on the metal. The crunching of his feet on the glass was intermingled with the sound of the other's footsteps as they followed him down. They all stood there in front of the window for a moment, peering in.

The room was almost as large as the dining hall, but it looked very different. The entrance of the room was rather like a balcony, and then the floor of the room was filled with computer terminals placed onto cluttered desks. Along the back wall was a large screen at least 80 inches across. Along the sides of the room were metallic, cupboard-like structures which Anderson guessed housed vast amounts of electronics. Everything was dark and inactive.

"How do we get in?" said Anderson.

"Don't have to," said Tim, pulling the heavy door open, "the powers off, remember?"

Guiterrez, who was up on the ledge beneath the whole in the window, his hands placed gingerly on the jagged edges of the broken glass, said "I knew that."

Anderson walked through the doorway first, swinging his light around, although he doubted anything would have made it this far. His spotlight showed nothing but dusty work surfaces and computer terminals. He relaxed, and waved for the others to come in.

"Do you have to go all commando every time we turn a corner?" said Guiterrez, walking into the dark room wrinkling his nose as waves of dust floated through the air.

"It's kept you alive so far," said Anderson, running his hands over the railing of the balcony. He trotted down into the room, followed swiftly by Tim and Wu.

"What do you think?" said Wu, eyeing up the cobweb coated computer monitors.

"Let's see," said Tim, walking forwards to a terminal which seemed to be far more cluttered than the others. He grabbed the strands of cobwebs and ripped them off, and pulled his sleeve over his hand, using the surface to rub the screen of the monitor and the keyboard clean of dust. Arcing his arm through the air he sprayed Jolt cola cans and candy bar rappers all over the floor, leaving a free workspace. He punched the chair, a puff of dust exploding into the air.

Anderson watched bemusedly as Tim smiled to himself slightly and sat down at the terminal. Guiterrez and Edgar had shut the door, and had sat down on two abandoned office swivel chairs, putting their feet up on the desk. Guiterrez was sighing with relief, rubbing his legs absent mindedly.

Anderson watched Tim and Wu, who were clustered around the computer terminal, while glancing from time to time at the hole in the window. After a few seconds he cleared his throat. "Is it alright if I move some of these containers?" he said, pointing to two large metal stands eight feet high, full of machinery.

"What for?" said Tim, climbing off the chair.

"I want to cover the windows," Anderson murmured, walking up onto the balcony and inspecting the stands. They were heavy, and sturdy. Better yet, they were mounted on wheels for easy transportation and inspection.

"Sure," said Wu, "just don't snap any of the cables attached to them.

As Anderson gripped the side of the stand, Guiterrez appeared next to him, and went over to the other side. Together they hauled the heavy object along the balcony, until it rested over the window next to the door, covering most of the hole in the window. A minute later they had the second in place, completing the shield, covering the long window completely. Reaching down Anderson found that the wheels had locks on them, to prevent them from moving around. Anderson grasped them, and shook the stand. It barely moved.

"How is it?" Wu was saying.

Tim had clambered down underneath the desk, and was rooting around. Anderson could hear him coughing from the accumulated detritus, and the clunking of him pulling on electrical wiring.

"The insulation's all still here; no mice have chewed on anything. I can't guarantee anything; it's been over a decade since anybody used any of this stuff. But there's one way to find out."

He got up, and walked over towards one of the metal lockers, pulling them open with a wrench of his arm. The door squealed in protest, and a spray of rust fell to the ground. Over Tim's shoulder, Anderson could see that the locker was indeed a holding place for electronic equipment, and with a glance he saw that bundles of tubing ran between the lockers at ground level.

However, the locker Tim had opened looked relatively simple. It was filled with rows heavy flip switches with stenciled labels beneath them. Above them he could faintly see pinprick circular lights.

One of the lights was glowing a strong green color.

"Ah," said Tim in a satisfied voice.

Anderson walked over to the locker where Tim stood, and shined his light on it. The labels came into sharp relief, the buttons above them brown with grime. The green of the glowing light still shone strongly through the glare of his rifle light. He looked at the label.

"Geo-Power Main," he read out loud.

He turned to Tim. "That means it worked?"

Tim nodded, and was running his hands over the labels of the buttons, running from left to right, going from row to row. Anderson stood to the side to give him more room to work, keeping his light trained on the inside of the locker.

"If it worked why is the power still off?" said Guiterrez, his chair squeaking as he swiveled from side to side.

"We have to start the system manually. Think of it like an SUV. Now we have some gas in the tank, but we still have to turn the ignition to get the engine going."

"Why doesn't it just start up automatically?" Guiterrez answered exasperatedly. "Wouldn't that just make things easier?"

Tim shook his head, his fingers coming to rest at an area of the locker less populated with switches, instead having just a few and a single large switch underneath.

"If there was a fault with the system, and it was automatic, then it'd get stuck in a loop. It'd start up, the fault would occur, the system would shut down, and then it'd start back up again. So you do it manually so that you can see where the faults are, if there are any."

"And it's time consuming," said Wu from the computer.

"I didn't say it isn't a pain in the ass," said Tim.

Tim reached down towards three red buttons which lay on a horizontal row, with three plastic guard caps placed over them. He popped off the protective caps, and flicked them all on in quick succession. Nothing seemed to happen, and Tim smiled.

Anderson frowned. Taking a step closer, he saw the labels.

'_Safety-1', 'Safety-2', 'Safety-3'_

"What's that about?" he said.

"Just precautions," said Tim. "They initialize surge protection, make sure that all the capacitors are viable, that sort of thing."

"What if something was broken?"

"They'd automatically turn themselves off."

"But they haven't."

"Right, so we're good."

Tim reached down to a large, isolated switch underneath, and stopped, his fingers almost touching it. Anderson watched his face for a moment, which was held in a steady stare.

"What? What is it?" called Guiterrez.

"I'm about to flip the main power switch, and if this doesn't work then not only have we wasted a trip, but we can't even call for help."

The room was silent for a moment.

Then Guiterrez said, "Oh."

Tim took a breath, and then curled his finger under the switch. With a heave, he hauled the switch upwards and the locker gave a _clunk_.

Tim stood back as the electronics all around them shuddered unanimously, and a loud whine began building from the walls and floor all around them. The whine became louder until it sounded as if an airplane propeller was blaring on the other side of the wall. Sparks exploded from the lockers on either side of them, and Anderson pulled Tim back out of the way, into the centre of the room. Guiterrez and Edgar leapt to their feet, looking around at the sizzling electronics. Wu stepped away from the computer terminal hesitantly.

And then, everything stopped. The shuddering died, and was replaced by a somewhat familiar buzz; it reminded Anderson of an office full of computers. There was a single beep from the computer terminal from which Wu had stepped from, and then the whooshing of fans settled into a continuous rhythm.

Wu clapped his hands, and took a seat before the terminal, Tim coming up to stand behind him. Anderson could see that Wu was now driving them forwards; Tim had no knowledge of the park's systems.

The monitor clicked, and then slowly faded into a strong black glow. In the top left hand corner, a green blipping cursor winked at them.

Edgar and Guiterrez clambered over to Tim and Wu, while Anderson remained a few steps backwards, glancing between them and the door.

He watched as Wu began typing on the keyboard. But the cursor remained stationary, and nothing appeared on the screen.

"The things broken, it doesn't even work," said Guiterrez angrily, turning away from the terminal.

"No, no, wait," said Wu, pausing with his fingers poised over the board, "give it a second."

They all waited for ten seconds in utter silence aside from the computer's fans, but nothing happened. Wu cursed.

He scratched his head, seemingly at a loss of ideas.

Tim reached over his shoulder, and before Wu could react he pushed the return key.

The computer beeped, and two bright green words scrolled onto the screen.

'_System ready.'_

Wu relaxed, his shoulders sagging. "There we go. Now…"

He began typing more confidently now.

_: Goto main_

The green writing disappeared from the black screen, and the disks whirred behind them monitor. Then, to their surprise, a new complicated screen popped up, the left side of which was predominantly occupied by a posing woman, half naked. They all shielded their eyes for a moment as the glare of the bright screen shone into the dark room.

On the right side of the screen was a blue print of a large, complex building. After a moment Anderson realized he was looking at the building plan for the visitor centre. Dots and lines overlaid the blueprint all over the place, and strange writing was scrolling down the screen at the bottom.

"Oh, this is good," said Wu, rattling on the keyboard.

"How so?" asked Guiterrez.

"This is the power distribution control system for the visitor centre, it means we can directly interface with this building without having to access the other systems."

"You mean we can activate everything right now?" said Tim, looking at Wu.

Wu shook his head. "No, we still have to do that manually. What I mean is that we can provide power to the entire building. Like this."

He typed on the keyboard, and hit enter.

A hum built over their heads, coming from the above the lockers, and spreading outwards, filtering out of the room and into the building. A moment later, large strip lights which hung overhead flickered for a moment, and the entire room was lit up brilliantly before being plunged back into darkness. A second later they flickered once again, and then again. After a few seconds the flickers became more frequent, until the lights were turned on continuously. The pleasant white light reached into every corner of the room, and they could see that the control room was indeed painted a matte black, a start contrast to the rest of the white-walled building. Anderson glanced outside, and saw that outside in the corridor an electronic sizzle was followed swiftly by a _clank_ and a bright light illuminated the white walls.

Wu and Tim were inspecting the monitor, and were counting what looked to Anderson like red dots placed at intervals all over the map of the building. One by one, the dots were turning green.

"Looks like we have lights and power to almost sixty percent of the building," said Tim, pointing to some of the red dots which had not changed.

"Yeah," said Wu quietly, "the lower floor is mostly out, probably due to the condensation from the fog. But control is fully operational, and genetics looks good. The hatchery is out, and so is the kitchen, but no matter. It looks good."

Guiterrez was standing in the middle of the room now, sighing as he looked up at the strip lights. "What a fucking great creation," he said to them. "I never appreciated lights until now."

Edgar had sat back down, and was twisting in his seat idly, merely observing the group. He had no purpose here, he was just tagging along.

"I'm worried about Sarah and Ian," said Guiterrez.

Wu and Tim looked up suddenly; they had forgotten.

"Malcolm's leg was pretty bad when we left," said Wu, "do you think they're ok?"

Anderson shrugged. "They should be. The bars on that shed were thick; I don't think anything could have gotten through them."

"I'd be worried," said Tim, typing something from over Wu's shoulder, "They haven't been on the radio."

"They probably just ran out of batteries," said Anderson, a little begrudged by Tim's lack of sensitivity. It was important that they all remained calm at this time.

"Hell, no point standing here speculating," said Tim, still typing. "Take the car, go get them. There's a medical unit next to the hatchery down the hall."

Tim walked over to another locker and pulled it open, retrieving three radios. He flicked them on, and they sprang to life with a hiss of static.

"How are those still powered?" Edgar said, puzzled.

"They're hooked into the building power system. They've been charging since we activated the geothermal plant. Here, take it."

He gave one to Anderson.

Anderson nodded, and made for the door.

"I'm coming with you," said Guiterrez, jumping up onto the balcony. Anderson smiled; he was starting the like the man. He was quirky, and strange, but likeable.

He reached the door and pulled it open, training his rifle on the outside. There was nothing within the lit corridor, except an old carpet.

"I better get down to genetics," said Wu, getting up from the terminal.

"What do I do?" said Tim. "The systems aren't activated yet."

"We're into the mainframe now," said Wu, "I've input the codes, you have full access. You knew your way around the geothermal systems pretty well. If you have any problems, radio me."

Wu took one of the radios from the desk where Tim had set them down, and made to follow Anderson out the door when Tim pointed to Edgar.

"Take him with you; I don't want him in here."

Edgar looked insulted for a moment, and then got up and followed Wu grudgingly.

Anderson looked at them all for a moment, and Tim hunched over the console by himself. It had taken them a long time to group together, and now they were splitting up again so quickly. It wasn't a good idea.

"Will you be okay here by yourself?" he said to Tim.

Murphy looked up, a spasm of irritation playing across his face. "Of course I will. You better get going; Malcolm's time must be limited by now."

Anderson still didn't move.

Guiterrez reached behind himself into his waistband, and pulled out Anderson's pistol. He handed it Wu.

"Take this, just in case," he said.

Wu took the gun gingerly, as if it might bite him, and slipped it into his waistband as Guiterrez had stowed it.

Anderson smirked, and then led the way out of the control room into the corridor.

The four of them entered the dining room, and were surprised at how pleasant it looked. Aside from the accumulated dust, it looked pretty good. The tables were set and neat, and the mural had been lit up by bright lights from behind, enhancing the glowing effect.

As Anderson and Guiterrez turned right to enter the passage to the rotunda, Wu and Edgar kept going, entering to corridor leading towards the genetics laboratory.

Anderson pressed the transmit button on the radio he was holding. "Testing," he said, "everybody hear me?"

"Yeah," said Wu, his voice overlapping from the radio and from his solid form mere meters away.

"I hear you," murmured Tim's voice, scratchy and hard to hear over the crackling.

They headed down the lid corridor, past the stenciled offices. It was comforting to have something as simple as the lights on in this place; it was the most civilized building they had seen in what seemed like forever.

After two minutes they emerged into the rotunda, and were greeted with the ominous reappearance of the fog which continued to seep into the building, crawling along the floor.

They approached the staircase, and descended downwards, Anderson keeping his rifle trained around them. You never know; something could have come inside since they had gone upstairs. And there was definitely something out there.

Unsettlingly, the power to downstairs was offline, and therefore there was no light; it remained dark. And so they descended into darkness, their footsteps making isolated, booming echoes in the cavernous space.

But nothing around them stirred; it was like floating down into a tomb. Looking up for a moment Anderson saw the bright orange glow of the lit rooms above. It almost looked like they were moving away from the pearly gates.

Their feet disappeared into the mist as they came to ground level, and picked their way carefully towards the hole in the wall where the building had never been finished; Anderson didn't want to go out of the front door as they made too much noise and there was no way of knowing what was on the other side.

Peering out, Guiterrez looked left and right into the white mist, and then waved Anderson forwards.

Together they crept from the building out at the side of the building, to the sound of faint trickling water. Anderson frowned as they moved around towards the front entrance, the concrete of the building the only thing they were able to pick out in the fog.

"Why does it sound like a stream?" whispered Guiterrez, "there wasn't any sound when we got here."

They stepped off the grass and onto the tarmac of the building, and then they looked towards the steps leading up to the wooden front doors. On either side of the steps were pools of water going up in levels, which added to the pleasant architecture of the building. But now the water was being pushed in jets down the levels, in a series of waterfalls.

"Must be a water feature," said Anderson, "the power's on."

"Stupid thing to have going when everything else is off," said Guiterrez, walking around to the other side of the car, opening the door, "whoever designed those systems must have been an idiot."

As Guiterrez got into the car, Anderson took a brief look around at the mist. He still couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. He had a lot of field experience in military situations, and he had learned to never take for granted the instinctual feeling that humans had for sensing the presence of another organism. Yet he saw nothing, and heard nothing.

Squinting, he opened the driver's door, and entered the vehicle, not taking his eyes off his surrounding, and closed the door quickly.

"You know where the maintenance shed is?" said Guiterrez quietly next to him.

Anderson thought for a moment, momentarily caught off guard; he hadn't given any thought as to where the shed was. After a moment he thought of Tim.

"Don't have to," he said.

He pressed the transmit button on the radio. "Tim, we need some help."

Tim rattled on the keyboards of several computers in the silence of the control room, moving backwards and forwards between them. It was a relief to have the others away from him for a while, so that he could hear himself think. First priority was to check the system, and so he had several diagnostic programs running on different terminals; the various screens around him showing scrolling lines of code and images.

The genetics files which Wu needed would be stored with all of the archived files in the system, which would take a while to get up and running. So first, he tried to get a few security features online.

He sat at what he was sure was once Nedry's old terminal.

The blueprints of the building had disappeared from the screen, and a three-dimensional interface, made up of multicolored blue blocks set up on top of large pink rectangles, positioned in different sections within cyberspace. Each pink block housed a set of systems, smaller pink blocks leading off of larger ones to cater for the subsystems. Right now he was in the central system.

Tim grabbed the cursor and guided the view of the screen left, the cursor switched from one blue block to another, which was labeled, '_Security Node'_.

He double clicked it, and another window opened in the middle of the screen, which was deep blue. Lines of white text began to scroll across the screen, until and then the cursor jumped to the next line, ready for command input. Tim read it briefly.

_Central Park Security Console_

_Jurassic park, System Security Interface_

_Version 4.0.5, Alpha E_

_Ready..._

_Operations:_

_VC_Illum(set to: on);_

_Diag-prog_1 – __TERMINAL 5_

_Diag-prog_2 – __TERMINAL 6_

…

He typed: _: system_directory_.

Hitting return, the screen quickly filled with a list of text. Individual security programs were listed before him. He began to peer through a few of them.

_Perimeter Fence System_

_Animal paddocks_

_Holding facility_

_VC_

_Geo_Plnt_

_Hydro_Plnt_

_Safari Lodge_

_Dock_

_Inn-Hotel_

These were sections of the park, not the systems themselves. He moved the cursor, and double clicked on _'VC'_. The screen changed again, and a shorter list scrolled onto the screen.

_Auto_Monitor_

_Safety_1_

_Safety_2_

_Safety_3_

_Lock_Central_

Tim guessed that _'Auto Monitor'_ was what he was looking for, and clicked on it. The screen changed once again, and he smiled as several live camera feed images popped up onto the screen. Several of the images showed just black, where the cameras were not working, but he had the whole of the top floor covered; he could see Wu and Guiterrez strolling down the genetics corridor. As well as this he had a sizeable area of the outside of the building. Through one of them he had a high placed view of the front, where he could see Guiterrez and Anderson sitting inside the car parked up, with the safari lodge in the distance behind them in the fog.

As Anderson raised his hand with a black device in his hand, his mouth began moving soundlessly on the image before him.

His radio crackled.

"Murphy, we need directions," said Anderson's voice.

"Ah, right," said Tim, kicking off from the desk, causing his chair to sail across the floor horizontally, coming to rest against the terminal next to Nedry's.

He hit the return key, and the three dimensional interface popped up before him. He moved the cursor around the blocks, peering closely at the labels of each of them, until he found one subsystem inside the geographical imaging module called _'Mapping'_.

He clicked on it, and the display disappeared, followed by a single line of code.

_Would you like to initialize tracking system? Y/N_

Tim punched in 'N'; they couldn't afford the power it would cost them. The text flashed off, replaced by a second line of code.

_Would you like to initialize island mapping? Y/N_

Tim punched in 'Y'. The terminal beeped, and nothing happened for a moment. A moment later he jumped as the huge screen on the wall in front of him hummed, and a massive image of the island was displayed in front of him, complete with a key and the correct location of all the paddocks, roads and buildings. It was impressive.

"Okay, got it," said Tim. "Head east along the road until you reach the large main gate. Go through that, and you'll come to the main road which leads north to south. Take that down to the lagoon. A small service road leads into the jungle to the shed. Call me if you have any trouble."

The radio crackled, and then Guiterrez's voice said, "Thanks."

On the screen the car started forwards, and then moved off, out of the frame, leaving nothing but the fog. Tim stared at the image for a moment, sighing. His eyes widened as he saw a black form bulge out of the whiteness for a moment, and then disappear. He felt a sudden chill, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He moved laterally to the other terminal, and began to type furiously, accessing the system which would allow Wu to download the genetics data. He had to work quickly, because it was too dangerous to be here.

They were coming.


	47. Chapter 45: SAR

Chapter 45

**SAR**

With a rumble the engine of the vehicle came to life, and the rev dial jumped upwards before settling down. Guiterrez turned on the air conditioning, as it was warmer outside, despite the cover provided by the fog.

He sat in the passenger seat and fidgeted until he was comfortable on the old leather; it was weird, driving instead of walking. Anderson flicked on the headlights beside him, and the fog in front of them seemed to recede slightly.

This car was built strangely; there were panels and bars over the sides and windows, and the materials looked expensive and experimental. It was almost like moving in a miniature tank; although he doubted it was meant to stand up against anything bigger than a donkey. The bigger dinosaurs would open this thing like a tin of sardines.

Still, it felt safer than the visitor centre. That place was just too old and empty, he felt like he was intruding on a lost memory.

Tim's voice faded from the radio's scratchy clicking, and they moved off down the left side of the road, being careful not to collide with the metallic bar running along its centre. But it was no problem; the road was wide enough to allow traffic in both directions; if anything the bar was like a divider on a dual carriageway.

"Stop," Guiterrez said suddenly.

Anderson brakes harshly, looking around warily. "What is it?" Do you see one of them?"

"No," Guiterrez said slowly, "but what's that?"

To their right, around the side of the visitor centre, backed away into the jungle somewhat, was a large hole large enough for a truck to fit through. They could just discern the road sloping downwards just inside the mouth of the cavern like structure, leading into the island.

Anderson frowned, and spoke into the radio.

"Murphy, are there tunnels here?"

The radio crackled, and then Tim spoke, slightly agitated. "Ah, shit. I forgot; I even told Sarah that's how we were going to reach them once we'd got a vehicle."

"Oh, that's nice," Guiterrez said, "you tell her, the person in need of saving, but not the rescuers."

"Sorry," said Tim over the sound of typing. There was an electronic beep, and then Tim's voice spoke again before Anderson could turn the wheel. "The mapping system says that the tunneling system was sealed at the time that the incident here occurred. They had shut them off for security purposes, just in case."

"Didn't they think that the animals escaping was impossible?"

"Apparently not."

Anderson sighed. "All right, we do it the hard way."

Guiterrez nodded as they accelerated along the road again. It would have been much easier to just drive under the man-eating monsters.

The car cruised along the road at a steady speed, Anderson taking care to keep to the road in their limited sight. Palm trees loomed out of the fog as black shapes, brushing against the hull of the vehicle.

The pond which lay calmly on the side of the road opposing the visitor centre danced slightly in the mid afternoon, dragonflies whizzing this way and that over the lily pads which dotted the surface.

Within moments they had left it behind, and Anderson accelerated down the road towards the bend in the road ahead, forking off to the right. Spinning the wheel, they cruised around the corner smoothly, and the fog began to lessen, wispy mist leaking through the air up into the sky.

They passed a sign, which lay crumbling at the side of the road. It had once been made of thick planks of wood, but now it was covered with grime, the words barely legible.

_Jurassic Park Main Road Intersection_

_Maintenance Road 2-J_

_Main Road_

"Well, Columbus," Guiterrez said, pointing straight ahead of them, "looks like we're heading south."

Anderson accelerated down the main road, and the foliage changed slightly, being replaced by much taller trees with thick leaves and bushy undergrowth. Guiterrez could just about make out the mangled ten foot high fencing which lay behind the trees. It was a screening effect, which must have been put in place by the park's architects to hide the fencing from view, to make it seem like you were entering the real jungle.

And then, with a harsh burst of light they flew from the mist which surrounded them, into clear, unperturbed air. They were both blinded for a moment, and put their hands over their foreheads, trying to shield their eyes. A huge shadow bore down over them, cutting out the sunlight as quickly as it had come, throwing them both into confusion. All Guiterrez could see was green and yellow shapes. Suddenly Anderson gave a yell, and slammed on the brakes.

Guiterrez, who had been lounging in the passenger seat, was completely unprepared, and flew forwards. As his seat belt caught him on his way to the windshield, tethering him to the seat, he caught a glimpse of dark black stone, rising high above them before his view was interrupted by the dashboard before him.

And then everything was black.

Tim wiped his face hastily in the darkened space of the control room, typing at the console, the sound barely audible over the sound of his breathing. His hair was dark, hanging down over his eyes, soaked with perspiration. His eyes stung, but he couldn't pause to wipe them. The hum of the air conditioners was loud, trying to counteract the rising heat outside and the fog slowly cleared away from the area as the sun began to cause it to evaporate. But he didn't pay it or his current discomfort any attention; he was entirely focused on the monitor before him.

"Come on," he whispered, staring at the screen intently, "Come on, where are you?"

His eyes narrowed at the screen, which had been split up into sixteen small images, which showed live feed images of the outside perimeter of the visitor centre, and a few of them in the trees in the vicinity of the safari lodge and main road.

Quickly, he glanced over at another monitor on the other side of the room, and saw Wu and Edgar standing in the genetics lab. Wu was standing towards an old computer, and was gesturing; he seemed to be explaining something to Edgar, who was nodding slowly.

_Damn it_.

They didn't have enough time for this. They needed to get the material, get Harding and Malcolm and get out, as fast as they could.

He picked up the radio and spoke into the mouthpiece.

"Anderson, Guiterrez, how's it going?"

There was a crackle of static. He waited for several moments, but there was no response. "Guys, how's it going?"

A crackle and a sharp hiss floated through the control room, but there were no voices. Tim ran from the console to the other side of the room, and began typing at another station, trying to access the cameras on the main road. Too late, he remembered that the power in that section of the park hadn't been activated at the geothermal plant.

_Error 41-T_

_Security-Act Failure_

_ZC-5, Prmrtr Offline_

"Ah, shit," he murmured, and dashed back to the first station, kicking a large ladder out of the way, and picked up the radio again.

"Wu; Anderson and Guiterrez aren't responding," he said, his eyes flitting over the screen.

On the monitor over the other side of the room, he saw that Wu and Edgar stood up straight, and moved off towards the other side of the room, out of view of the camera.

There was a crackle of static. "What happened to them?" Wu's voice said.

Tim paused for a moment. "I don't know," he said finally.

"Can't you pull them up on the camera?" Edgar's voice said.

"We didn't pull the main road section of the island online when we were down at the geothermal plant, so no," he said, leaning forwards towards the monitor as something caught his eye.

"We have to find out somehow," Wu's voice said, the sound of clanging metal filtering over the radio in the background. "They're the only way Sarah and Malcolm have of getting back. And if we've lost Anderson and Guiterrez, we haven't just lost all four of them; we've lost our only way of getting out of this fog."

"There is no way," Tim murmured over the radio. "We just have to wait and see if they talk again."

"Well what about Sarah and Ian?"

Tim ran his hand through his hair, and took a deep breath as the water of the pond on the screen in front of him rippled slightly. "Just get the data ready, we'll worry about that when you're done."

"Ah, fuck!" Guiterrez moaned, blood running all over his hand, dripping down to the floor of the Jeep from his knuckles.

"Just hold it," Anderson said, putting the vehicle in reverse. The engine gave a pained whir as they backed up, and a huge structure, sixty feet high, came into view. It was clearly man made, and appeared to be some kind of oversized gate marking the entrance to the park. It would have looked impressive to visitors taking the tour, Guiterrez thought.

Now the structure was in disrepair, but still looked strong. The stonework looked unchanged. The two huge wooden doors which would have once opened were now covered in mold, and lay hanging off their hinges slightly, propped up haphazardly. The jungle had grown up around it, and vines twisted their way around the twin pylons, and creepers covered the surface of the wooden doors.

Anderson picked up the radio, rubbing his chest, wiping away Guiterrez's blood.

"Murphy," he said into it.

Almost immediately Tim's voice filled the compartment, slightly high pitched.

"What the hell is wrong with you? I've been trying to reach you for five minutes!"

"We ran into a problem…"

"Like what?" Tim's voice said, annoyed, the sound of shuffling filtering across the radio.

"Like a fucking gate, sixty feet high," growled Guiterrez, pinching his nose with one hand and trying to clean as much of the blood of his lap as possible, his voice nasally.

There was a brief pause. "I would have hoped that you would have noticed something like that before driving into it," Tim's voice said slowly.

Anderson cursed, and threw the Jeep into gear, and revved the engine. "Never mind."

Guiterrez braced himself against the dashboard as Anderson stamped on the accelerator, and the vehicle's engine roared and they rushed forwards. The speedometer jumped upwards, crawling across the fading numbers printed on the dial. Anderson lined them up with the centre, at the weakest point between the two doors, as the gate flew towards them.

With an almighty crash they impacted the bottom of the door, and with a great splintering sound the wooden doors on both side exploded all around them. Pieces of rotting shrapnel flew in every direction, and Guiterrez had to release his hand from his nose, and gripped the dashboard, yelling at the top of his voice.

He watched as the bonnet crumpled in front of him, crushed by the weight of the wood.

His momentum caused him to shift forwards in his seat, and he felt the blood rush to his cheeks, and a splash of blood flew before his eyes from his nose and splattered on the windshield.

The two doors separated, pushed apart by the force of the impact. The left door gave a metallic squelch, and twisted upwards. With twin sounds akin to gunshots the hinges exploded, and the entire door flew off into the jungle. The right door banged open, and flew all the way around on its remaining hinge, clanging against the outside wall of the stone pillar that it was attached to.

Anderson kept the Jeep going, and the roar of the engine competed against the crunching smashes nearby as the left door went clattering into the canopy of the jungle.

They accelerated away from the wreckage before the other door could fall away and harm them.

"Murphy, we're through the gate. Now, are you sure there's nothing else that we need to be worrying about?"

"I'm sure," said Tim's voice. He sounded annoyed. "Just follow the main road and—"

"We heard you the first time," said Guiterrez, the tangy taste of blood touching his tongue as he spoke.

The Jeep was now cruising along a wide road, which had once been immaculately laid with tarmac, but was now heavily pitted with ruts and potholes. Anderson gripped the wheel firmly, keeping them at a relatively low speed as he navigated them around the deepest of the holes, spinning the wheel in his hands. The suspension squeaked and groaned as they bounced up and down.

Guiterrez kept a look out, searching for anything that might be in their way up ahead, or following them from behind. But he saw nothing; just the fifteen foot high fence which ran parallel to the road on their left side. On the other side he guessed had once been a fairly small paddock; the mountain in the background was fairly close, the area of jungle quite small compared to the overall size of the island.

"Won't be pretty getting Malcolm back over all of these," Anderson said, spinning the wheel.

Guiterrez nodded. "Well we can't go around; this is the only road which runs from north to south on the island. And anyway, it's better on the open road here than going on some jungle track.

Anderson nodded.

Guiterrez blinked slowly as the fence running alongside them changed. It took on a more menacing, tougher demeanor; it was ten feet taller and its concrete base was thicker, and higher. Something big had been kept here.

Guiterrez frowned as he looked ahead.

On the left there was a small intersection, a narrow maintenance road leading off of the main road into the jungle. But here long, streaking tire marks lined the road, and continued, leading off into the distance.

"Odd," Guiterrez said. "It must have happened during the incident."

Anderson shook his head slowly. "No. The marks aren't weathered at all; here, in this open tropical environment. And besides, they weave around the potholes, just like we've been doing. They were made recently."

Guiterrez frowned. "Dodgson," he said quietly.

The jungle sat quietly in the afternoon heat. The insects creaked, and sang as usual, but the air was heavy, rippling from the strength of the sun. There was nothing in sight except for endless greenery in every direction in the small clearing. In the distance a long, mournful cry floated through the jungle, the air vibrating from the sound.

With an explosive bang, a section of the floor three feet across shot upwards. It doubled over on itself quickly, and clanged to the floor, a metallic resonance shaking the ground.

Sarah Harding's head popped up above ground, eyes narrowed. She grunted as she hauled herself upwards, her torso stuck up into the air, and she swiveled around, looking in all directions.

A frog croaked nearby, but other than that everything was still and quiet. She gave a tired exhale of approval, and her head disappeared again, down into the dark hole in the ground.

Sarah grunted as she descended the ladder which ran alongside one of the moss-covered concrete walls of the hatch in the ground, and gripped the rungs tightly, careful not to slip off of the damp metal.

Her feet touched the bottom of the tunnel a few moments later, and she blinked in the darkness, and waited for a few moments for her eyes to adjust a little.

Before her was a moss covered wall, made of dark black volcanic stone. The steady _drip, drip_ of water nearby was a constant reminder of the puddles and small streams which ran down the tunnel, following it downhill, north-east as far as she could tell.

She figured that they had travelled about three miles underground since they had left the Compies in the maintenance shed. But if they went onwards any further they would be heading to the east side of the island; the opposite way that they needed to go. And she hadn't seen any intersections down here. So they had to venture back outside.

A beam of light cut through the air in front of her with a _click_, and it waved around, until it found her boots. It followed her body up to her head, and through the glare Sarah could just about make out Malcolm, who sat propped up against a wall eight feet away, his injured leg laid out awkwardly in front of him.

"How is it?" he said.

The morphine had begun to run out a while ago, but she couldn't afford to inject him with any more of it; she needed him lucid and mobile. Nevertheless, it caused him significant pain.

"It's clear," she answered, walking over to him and holding out her hand. He grabbed it, and with their combined effort Malcolm was hauled to his feet, and groaned.

"I'm going to miss it down here," he said as they approached the bottom rung of the ladder, leading up into the daylight. "It's lovely and cold, and there aren't so many monsters."

They both arrived at the bottom of the ladder, and as Sarah looked upwards it dawned on her that Malcolm had to ascend the vertical, wet metal rungs with his injured leg, which was by now almost useless. It certainly couldn't take his full weight. She didn't know if he even had the strength to make it all of the way up.

"Ah, I see you have also picked up on our predicament," he said, and grinned weakly.

Sarah looked up at the gap in the ceiling of the tunnel, and sighed deeply.

"Alright, well you go first, you'll have to use your arms to hold on."

"I see," Malcolm said, coughing through a laugh, "and how am I going to go about travelling upwards?"

Sarah looped her pack over her shoulders, and stood behind Ian, and moved him forwards, so that he gripped the railings above his head. "I'll have to push you," she said.

"This is going to end badly," Malcolm said thinly as he hauled himself off the ground, his shoulders shaking. He was now two feet off the ground, and hung there, helpless. Sarah reached down, near to the ground, and grabbed the soles of Malcolm's shoes. With a heave, she pushed upwards, her knees threatening to buckle. Ian began to move upwards. He grunted as he helped her, pulling himself up with his arms. He linked his left arm over the rung he held onto, and then reached for the one above with his right.

With a groan of pain, he rose upwards. Not a lot; but a little. It was a distance of ten feet from the floor to the lip of the hatch ceiling. His head was almost seven feet upwards now. Another four feet and he would be able to reach over onto the ground with his arms and pull himself up.

"For Christ sake!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the cavernous space.

"Push, Ian!"

"This is not my idea of a short trip to save the world!" she shouted back, rising another two feet, gripping the next rung desperately and hauling himself up.

With a crash, and the rustling of leaves, Malcolm's arms launched over the lip of the hatch, out of sight. Ian tried to kick his good leg, but Sarah struggled with him, trying to hold him still. With a heave, she crouched, underneath him, and pushed upwards as hard as she could.

Malcolm's torso disappeared into the bright light above, and he groaned in pain as he twisted slowly, and she let go of his foot. Slowly, Ian moved his injured leg upwards, gingerly turning himself around, and swinging it out of sight.

Sarah gripped the bottom rung, her arms aching, and pattered up the rungs to the surface. She emerged from the hatch, and saw Ian roll to the side, and lay in the detritus which lay on the floor. She leapt up onto the ground, feeling the softer ground under her feet as she sunk on the squishy mud.

"Are you ok?" she said.

Ian simply lay quietly on the ground, his chest heaving. Sarah walked around to his side, and crouched down. She brought out her water bottle, unscrewing the lid quickly. She lifted his head, and put the bottle to his lips. Slowly, he lifted his head, and took a long gulp.

She pulled him up, smiling carefully, "Come on, we have to get going. We're closer now."

She hauled him to his feet, and looked around at the surrounding foliage. Everything remained still.

Sarah left Ian standing for a moment, and approached the hatch door. She lifted it up, and threw it over on its hinges, which squealed loudly before slamming down shut.

She then looped Ian's arm over her shoulder, and they both struggled into the trees, heading north-west.

"When we get out of here," he said quietly, "I'm booking the first flight to the coldest place I can find."

The suspension squeaked as the Jeep bounced around the corner in the jungle, the front wheels splashing up an arc of mud as they passed through a deep puddle lying in the middle of the road.

Guiterrez wiped away the last of the drying blood from his upper lip, and squinted in the glare of the headlights at the jungle ahead. The road was narrow, and grass grew tall everywhere, making progress difficult. But Anderson pushed the engine hard, and they were less than two miles from their destination.

A blockade of ferns and bushes appeared ahead of them suddenly, blocking their path. Light filtered through intermittently; Guiterrez braced himself as Anderson gunned the engine, and they accelerated forwards.

With a roar they burst out into the daylight, clumps of detritus clinging to the bonnet and windshield as they came crashing down in the grassy expanse of the field.

The windshield wipers flicked on, smearing the foliage and flecks of mud over the glass as they careened over the periphery of the field which lay at the edge of the lagoon.

Guiterrez looked out, through Anderson's window at the sparkling water which sat quietly in the afternoon sun. In the heat of the day most of the animals had left the lagoon, however he could still see several Parasaurolophus coming down from the jungle to take a drink. They stopped for a moment, and looked over at the vehicle as they skirted the edge of the field, approaching a small break in the canopy several hundred meters away, marking the entrance to the small maintenance road that Tim had told them to take.

Anderson gripped the wheel tightly as they bounced over the terrain, his eyes wary as the tires tore through the thick grass which coated the ground.

Guiterrez sat up straighter in his seat as he looked out over the lagoon, to the opposite shore. He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck as he saw the two adult Tyrannosaurus Rex standing at the opposite shore, looking out over the water, right at them.

"Shit," Anderson whispered as he followed Guiterrez's eyes.

The Tyrannosaurs didn't move, or make any attempt to move towards them; they were separated by hundreds of meters of water; anyway, the Hadrosaurs probably provided a more appetizing meal. The larger one dipped its head, and scooped up a swathe of water into its lower jaw, like a bird. It then raised its head skywards, tilting the water down its neck.

The other simply stared at them as they traversed the distance to the maintenance road. Guiterrez kept his eyes on both of the Tyrannosaurs as Anderson span the wheel and they turned away from the lagoon, heading into the jungle. A long, single roar carried over the water from behind them, causing the air to vibrate inside the cab.

It was dark inside the vehicle again; they once again had to rely on their headlights. Guiterrez noticed, to his surprise, that it was in fact beginning to get later on in the day by now; the sun had past its highest point in the sky, and was beginning its descent. Everything that the sunlight touched was now taking on a golden, warm glow.

It made the surrounding jungle look like something out of a children's novel; golden glowing detritus, long vines draping down towards the floor from the mosaic-like canopy far above.

Some wonderland, he thought; like some terribly, monster centered children's tale gone awry.

The rounded a sharp corner and a large group of small greenish looking dinosaurs were thrown into the harsh glare of the lights. They squeaked and hissed as they saw them, before scattering in all directions into the jungle, lowering their heads to make them parallel to the rest of their body. Guiterrez tried to watch them flee, but they melted into the terrain within seconds; simply disappearing into the foliage, like ghosts.

"Creepy," he said, looking out of his window as they continued bounding on through the jungle.

Anderson turned a final corner, the Jeep sliding haphazardly in the mud, and the headlights illuminated the small field that they had left, less than eight hours before. Guiterrez felt his seat shudder, the brakes creaking as they trampled the vegetation down, and Anderson span the wheel around to reveal the derelict maintenance shed.

They pulled up alongside it within seconds, and the engine died in the sudden silence. The jungle sounds resumed, which – for which Guiterrez had been thankful – had been blocked out by the roar of the engine. But now they were back with a vengeance; the creaking and clicking of an entire zoo of insects, amphibians and lizards.

Guiterrez and Anderson leapt from the Jeep into the long grass, slamming the doors shut as they walked towards the thick metallic bars which marked the entrance to the shed.

The interior glowed with strips of golden light as the sunlight streamed in around the bars, but it remained darker than Guiterrez remembered it.

Anderson flicked on the light which was attached to his rifle, and a shaft of bright light filtered into the shed. Guiterrez gripped the bars, and looked in, squinting. There was no movement inside.

"Sarah?" he called, his voice echoing in the large space, "Ian? Are you there?"

He waited for a few moments, but there was no reply. The only answer he received was the distant roar of one of the Tyrannosaurs.

Anderson slipped through the bars in a single fluid moment, and Guiterrez watched from the entrance bars as the shaft of light on his rifle swiveled around in the space, receding into the shed, the only sound the clicking of his shoes on the concrete surface of the floor.

A few seconds later Anderson came back to the entrance, scratching his head.

"They're not here," he said.

"Ah, shit," Guiterrez muttered, turning away from the entrance.

He put his hands over his face, and rubbed his eyes, trying to ease the headache which was brewing in his temples.

He walked over to the Jeep, and climbed in, and grabbed the radio from the dashboard. "Murphy," he said into the mouthpiece."

There was a crackle, and then Tim's voice spoke erratically. "What is it?"

"Ian and Sarah aren't here, they left the shed."

"Tried the tunnels?"

"Where are they?" Guiterrez said, leaning out of the window, looking into the shed, where Anderson was walking around in the shed, confused.

"At the back, there's a door which leads down into them."

Anderson looked up at Guiterrez as he heard this, and Guiterrez watched as the rifle's light swung sharply as Anderson ran to the back of the shed. A moment later there was a sharp _clunk_, and then he heard, deep, booming footsteps, leading away from him.

Guiterrez sat silently in the Jeep with the radio mouthpiece in his hand, his head out of the window cocked to one side, listening.

Anderson's voice called distantly, echoing strongly from what sounded to Guiterrez like it was from inside a cave of some kind.

Half a minute later Anderson slipped back through the bars of the shed, clicking his rifle light off. "They're not in there either," he said glumly, stomping through the grass back towards the vehicle.

"They're not in there," Guiterrez said into the radio.

There was a pause, and a hiss of static and Anderson threw open the driver's door and jumped in, and started the engine.

"The tunnels extend for miles across the island. That one passes within two to three miles from the control room. They could be heading for us."

"How do we know where to find them?" Guiterrez cursed as Anderson put the Jeep in gear, and they set off in an arc around in the field.

"I'm not sure that there's anything that we can do for them now," Tim said darkly.

"So we just leave them out there?"

"The tunnels are sealed off, they'll be okay right up to the point that they have to get out."

"Right," Guiterrez said, sighing heavily.

"We're heading back now," Anderson said.

"Oh no, you're not," Tim said suddenly. Anderson frowned, and looked at Guiterrez as Tim spoke again. "You need to get back to the geothermal plant as fast as you can, and activate the radio tower."

"Why do we need to do that?" asked Guiterrez as they accelerated back onto the maintenance road, disappearing back into darkness.

"We can't send for help until you do that," Tim said, the sound of typing carrying over to them.

As they rounded a corner, Anderson cursed. "Alright," he said, "How do we get there?"

"I need to stop," Malcolm grated, breathing heavily.

"We can't," grunted Sarah, trying to drag him forwards.

Malcolm simply sank to the ground in front of a very large, old tree which towered above them, groaning, his head resting in the ferns. Lying inside a cleft of one of the large woody roots which stuck up above the ground, he was barely visible unless looking at his body from the opposite side.

Sarah looked at him for a second; his heaving chest, soaked with sweat, shuddered as he breathed deeply, sucking humid air into his lungs. His black shirt clung to his body, soaked through, but he didn't seem to notice.

He wasn't going to last much longer if they kept this up. She had no idea how far it was to the control room, and she didn't even know if they were going in the right direction. But to sit here in the jungle, surrounded by god only knows what, was foolish. If either of them was going to make it, they had to keep moving.

But the truth was that she was lost; there were only two of them, and hell, she was the only one lucid and thinking. It was impossible to keep her bearings in here. The jungle was like a blanket; it smothered her senses. The only link they had, their only reprieve was their radio. She'd call Tim in a minute and try and get some directions.

She looked at Malcolm's defeated form one more time, and then felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her, and she swayed on her feet. She took a deep breath, and leaned against the trunk of the tree. She shrugged her pack from her shoulders, and threw it in a heap three feet away near the bushes. She rubbed her shoulders firmly, trying to ease the aching muscles.

Just a few minutes rest, she thought.

"Don't you get tired now, Mamacita," Malcolm wheezed. "We've got to—"

"Save the world?" she asked, a tired grin on her face.

Malcolm laughed quietly, coughing.

"How's the leg?" she said.

Malcolm lifted his head minutely, looking down at his bandaged shin, grimacing. "Dandy," he said.

Sarah sighed, closing her eyes against the oncoming headache. The humidity and heat of the island really got to you quickly, especially if you exerted yourself. It literally sapped the strength out of you.

"Oh, give me one of those frozen vanilla cappuccino things," Malcolm said, trying to catch his breath.

She felt a pang of desire; she could really go for one of those right now. What she wouldn't give to be sitting in her refrigerator with a tub of ice cream right now. It was supposed to have been simple; get in, get out. But just as Ian always said, it never went the way you wanted it to—

There was a thud, and then a dark shape rolled up to her feet, and lay in front of her. It was a large sturdy stick; it bore signs of wearing, indicating that it had been used as a walking stick.

"Don't move," said a rough voice.

She opened her eyes slowly, and froze.

Her pack lay opened on the ground, the contents spilled in the bushes. Before her, stood a man, covered in mud and detritus. Blood stains ran down the middle of his torso, all over his filthy shirt. His eyes glittered with malevolent, aggressive energy, and he grinned through the day-old stubble on his face.

And in his hand, was their radio.

"Who are you?" she said, standing up straight. She felt her muscles tense under her clothes, and her mind began to race, her headache gone.

"Lewis Dodgson, ma'am," he growled quietly.

She felt anger flood through her, and she bunched her fists against her will as she kept a steady stare. Malcolm lay at the periphery of her vision, unmoving. He didn't seem to react to the appearance of Dodgson.

"What do you want?" she said.

Dodgson gave a bark of laughter. "I don't want anything from you; I've already got what I want."

He waved the radio in his hand, and began backing away.

"Wait," she said, taking a step forwards.

"Ah," he said, grinning as he twisted the power dial on the radio. There was a hiss of static, and then she heard Tim's voice snap into focus.

"—you need to follow the lagoon south, and then you need to get onto maintenance road 22-W."

"And that's where?" Guiterrez's voice rattled.

"It's the only other turnoff south of the one you've just come from."

Dodgson laughed softly, and turned the dial onto another channel, and the voices ceased abruptly. He then began to back away into the bushes.

In a single, fluid movement Sarah swung her hand around to the back of her waistband, gripped the handle of the tranquilizer gun and swung it out, and aimed it at him.

Dodgson froze instantly, and his eyes narrowed. For a moment he didn't move, and simply looked at the tiny gun which lay in her hands, moving on the balls of his feet, as if thinking of what to do. Sarah moved to the side, trying to get a better stance on stable ground. In response Dodgson moved in the opposite direction.

And there they found themselves walking in circles around each other, like in an old country western.

"Give me the radio now, and you can go," she said sternly.

Dodgson smiled, and then slowly moved the radio in his grip until it hovered over a sharp, jagged rock which stuck up out of the ground. "Let me on my way girl, or I break it."

"You need that just as much as we do," she said, her back brushing against the bush behind her. She frowned for a moment, and then she felt the presence of her pack against her foot. They had turned half a full revolution around each other, and now she stood facing the large tree.

"Now listen, I'm going to turn and leave," Dodgson said. "If you shoot me, I will break this." He waggled the radio.

Sarah thrust the gun forwards, her hands shaking. Her mind raced; desperately trying to think of what to do.

If he took the radio, then they were lost. If she shot him to get it, he'd break it before he lost consciousness. Her tired mind went in circles as she pointed the gun at him.

Dodgson simply grinned evilly. "Funny," he said quietly, observing her, "You look like the kind of girl that likes to control things. You like to think you're in charge, and god knows that everybody else thinks just the same. I bet you're one of those field scientists. But you're all talk. Put you under stress, and all you get is—"

_Whack!_

Dodgson's eyes widened as the sound of splintering wood filled the air, cracking through the jungle like a gunshot, and he swayed on his feet. His eyes seemed to lose focus, and his eyelids drooped, the radio falling from his hand as his arms went limp. A moment later his eyes rolled up into his head, and he crashed sideways into the underbrush, and Malcolm was revealed from behind him.

"Chaos," Malcolm finished, dropping the broken walking stick onto the ground.

"The Tyrannosaurs are gone," Guiterrez said as the Jeep burst from the shrouded maintenance road onto the beach of the lagoon, racing south. On the opposite shore of the gently swaying body of water there was nothing but golden grass glowing in the late afternoon sun.

"Doesn't matter," Anderson said, spinning the wheel in his hands, "It shouldn't take more than quarter of an hour to get to the geothermal plant."

Guiterrez shifted uneasily in his seat as they followed the curvature of the lagoon, passing a pair of Gallimimus which squeaked, raising their heads and leaping into the air in fright.

There was a harsh crackle of static which emanated from the radio, and then Sarah's voice began speaking rapidly.

"Hello, anybody there?"

She sounded tense and breathless.

Immediately Tim's voice answered. "Sarah, where are you?"

"I'm in the jungle with Ian. I think we just ran into Dodgson."

There was a pause, and then Tim continued. "Are you ok?"

"We've fine, Ian knocked him unconscious. But we're lost."

Guiterrez couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the information. How Malcolm had knocked Dodgson out in his state was beyond him.

"You followed the tunnels all the way?" Tim said.

"Yeah, then we got out, and we headed north for about ten minutes. At least I think we did."

"Okay," said Tim, the sound of typing and the rustling of his on the carpet as he moved around the control room. "Alright, head north and you'll come to a small road in the jungle. You follow that west, and it should lead you straight here."

There was a crackle of static, and a garbled transmission, mixed with grunts as Sarah struggled through the jungle. "Okay," she said, "So I—?"

There was a sharp inhale, and then Tim began babbling, speaking rapidly, his words lost in the background crackle of the radio. "I have to go," he said.

The radio went dead.

"Tim?" Sarah voice said.

"He's gone," Guiterrez said, frowning.

"Guiterrez," Sarah said; her voice warmer. "Where are you?"

"Heading south to call for help."

There was a moment of silence, and then Sarah said, "That'll take forever."

"We have a vehicle, from the eastern garage. Once we're done we'll come and pick you up."

"I'd hurry," a voice wheezed. For a moment Guiterrez didn't recognize it, but when it spoke again he realized it was Malcolm.

"Why's that?" Anderson said as they left the lagoon behind, and continued on south on a wide muddy trail, the southern volcanic fields barely visible ahead.

Malcolm didn't seem to react to Anderson's voice. Instead began to sing in broken sentences, breathing heavily. Guiterrez thought he must be delirious, but nevertheless, the words made him uneasy.

"Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned; the best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity."

"What are you talking about?" Sarah's voice said.

Malcolm answered with a single sentence, breathing heavily.

"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold."


	48. Chapter 46: The Centre Cannot Hold

Chapter 46

**The Centre Cannot Hold**

"So," Edgar said idly, lifting a cobweb covered microscope off of the crumbling desk, turning it over in his hands, "How do we get the data you need?" He looked at the rusting monitor standing a few feet from him; "From the computers in here?"

Wu looked up from the other side of the room, surrounded by a small cloud of dust. They stood in the dimly lit genetics lab; the once bright white strip lighting now a dank yellow glow which flickered intermittently. The room was only twelve feet wide, but was much longer, stretching away into the building, ending with a thick metallic wall which had a steel door built into it. Wu had one of the browning storage cupboards underneath the elaborate tabletops open in front of him, and was inspecting a thick bundle of wires which were taped to the back of the wall, running parallel to the room.

"The files which contain the genetic code for each species on the island are accessible from these terminals here in this room, if the correct user with sufficient clearance logs into the system. But the DX virus research data is stored on the highest level of the system."

Wu paused for a moment, wiping his brow with his sleeve, and then looked skywards before continuing checking the wires for weathering. "In fact, I think I'm the only person still alive that has the access codes to that part of the system."

Edgar nodded, chewing his lip as he looked around.

"Can you access it from here? He said, pushing the power button on the monitor next to him, which creaked loudly. There was a pained whir, and a shudder. And then a slow hum began, and the monitor slowly glowed to life, and the brightly lit blank screen sat flickering before them.

Wu laughed softly. "Right here? You think I'd do secret research in this lab, with all the low-main-techs?"

"The what?" Edgar said, frowning, pulling a crumpled silvery stool from under the bench with a loud scrape, sitting down with a sigh.

"The geneticists who worked here in this lab were just low grade maintenance workers; I'm sure BioSyn knows just like everybody else that all the real work went on at Isla Sorna; that's where I did most of my research. The only reason the DX data was here at all was because I didn't want to stop working on it when I had to be here for the inspection team. Anything that went on in here was just little changes to the code; mostly refinements of the GAP program."

Wu stopped for a moment, and shook his head. "Why am I telling you this?" he said to himself, before standing up and closing the cupboard doors.

Edgar snorted. "Henry, I'm willing to trade loyalties with somebody who's a well known murderer to help save lives. But you're losing me here; what's GAP?"

Wu looked at him for a moment, and then made for the steel door at the far end of the room. "I'll explain it to you in a moment, just help me boot up the servers in the Cryo-Room and then I'll run you through it."

Edgar followed Wu along the room, carefully sidestepping out of the way of large trolleys full of chemicals and dusty workstations which littered the room, all bearing signs of weathering, with strings of cobwebs sprouting from them in all directions.

He walked past a long line of tall, immaculate black machines, which he recognized as gene sequencers. There was a whole row of them; it must have cost a fortune, it would cost millions at the present time, but when InGen was in operations it must have set them back millions of dollars.

They passed a large window at the end of the room, set just before the large steel door. It was grimy, and was scratched heavily from weathering, but it still provided sunlight entry to the room; a shaft of golden light which arced through the air and onto the floor; a stark contrast to the rest of the room.

As Wu passed through it his shadow was thrown in sharp relief against the opposite wall, before he disappeared onto the other side, grabbed the large metal level of the door which served as the handle.

Edgar followed his through, and with a heave Wu pulled the handle laterally, and there was a squeal, and then a _plunk_. Edgar's ears popped as Wu pulled the door open, revealing a small recess, large enough for several people to stand in.

The walls were made of thick Plexiglas, and as he stepped in he saw that the floor was made of a latticework of metal grating; lying below them was a very large metallic fan blade, spinning slowly, providing a gently breeze. In front of them was another door; an exact copy of the one that they had just come through.

He stepped forwards, and gripped the handle. He grunted as he pulled as hard as he could, trying to open the door. But it wouldn't move. He released it, sighing in frustration.

He looked back at the other door that they had just come through, and saw that Wu was pulling it shut behind them, and it clanged closed with a _snap_.

"It's an antechamber," he said.

Wu nodded.

Instantly, there was an electronic whir from somewhere above them, and he felt the breeze beneath him intensify as the fan blade began to revolve faster. There was a brief sizzle, and a strip light above them glowed brightly for a second, and then abruptly clicked off again.

Edgar looked at Wu questioningly.

"Vacuum sealed," said Wu, "We're being pressurized and cleaned."

"What do you mean cleaned—?"

An explosive roar emanated from the ceiling, and Edgar suddenly felt his entire body become soaked in a freezing, thin liquid which smelled strongly of a hospital ward. He guessed it was disinfectant. He began to shiver in the cold, and saw his breath was now showing as small puffs of vapour as he exhaled.

The hum became louder suddenly, and Edgar felt a gush of wind soar from the floor, and felt his skin dry out as the liquid evaporated instantly. He was still partially wet around his legs and his head, and his clothes were damp. The hum became louder still, and reached a peak, before the wind gushed once more, very warm this time, which lasted for ten seconds.

With a beep the inner door slid open. Edgar stumbled into the room, his clothes steaming and his body now completely dry.

Wu stepped in after him, shielding a small packaging case in his arms, zipping his rucksack shut as he did so.

"You could have told me that was about to happen," Edgar said, rubbing his burning eyes.

"I did," Wu said, stepping further into the room, running his hands over the metallic surfaces, as if trying to get his bearings.

The entire room was white, and it was around half the size of the genetics lab they had just left. The walls were made up of glass, and he saw that it was slightly elevated, cut off from another, much larger room.

Edgar looked out through the glass walls, and looked down into the larger room. It was very dark, and it was full of small tables, which seemed to be topped with bundles of material which had long since rotted. And something else was down there. He frowned.

"Eggs," said Wu.

He was right. Hundreds of eggshells were mounted on top of the tables. A robotic arm stood sentinel beside each table, the grappling hand stationary and dead. The eggs looked like ostrich eggs, although they did look a little synthetic, as if they were made out of some sort of plastic. Most of them looked pristine, albeit dusty; but a few lay opened, with odd holes in them, like they had been cracked in to.

Beyond the tables, mounted into the concrete back wall was a large glass pane cut in a modernly designed shape. Through it he could just about make out dozens of padded red seats, like a cinema.

Everything around here seemed cleaner and less degraded than the rest of the island; he guessed it was because of the airtight design.

"This place is…"

"Weird?" Wu suggested.

"Yes, it is."

Wu smiled slightly, and rubbed his nose as he turned towards the back of the small room, which was mostly empty, with the exception of a two large shiny cylinders in the centre of the room, several walk-in refrigerators, chemical storage tanks and two massive black server towers which lined the right wall, opposite the glass walls overlooking the hatchery.

Wu walked directly towards the two towers, and pulled out a small shelf, which folded down from the wall unit. It had a small monitor built into it, and a flat, tiny keyboard lined the base of the shelf.

Wu went around to the middle of the two towers, to the gap in which they separated, and reached into the space in between them. His eyes swiveled animatedly as he moved his hand blindly inside the dark space, and then there was a sharp _clunk_ as he pushed an unseen button.

There was a sharp whir, which began to build steadily, the tiny monitor beeping, and glowing, the buttons on the keypad glowing with little green lights.

All over the towers blue and green lights were appearing, blinking and flashing as the machine came to life. Wu walked over to the small shelf, and put down the package that he was carrying in his arms. He put it down carefully, and opened it up, pulling out two blue, flat cuboids which had wires running out of them all over the place. He laid them on top of one another, and then turned to Edgar.

"The servers will take a while to boot up. Come on, I'll show you the GAP," he said, stepping into the airlock.

Wu walked over to the monitor in the genetics lab, and tapped the keyboard of the computer terminal experimentally, which lay in front of the monitor, the keys smeared and illegible from green mold.

For a moment the monitor remained unchanged; and then with a jump half a dozen numbers and letters scrolled onto the screen in quick succession. He smiled slightly. "Unbelievable. Everything here still works, no wonder it cost a fortune."

He hit the return key, and the blank screen was replaced by green writing which scrolled onto the monitor.

_Jurassic Park – System Log In – Genetic Lab B-2_

_User:-_

_Pass:-_

Wu rattled on the keyboard, entering his details, and hit the return key again, and turned to Edgar while they waited, the computer beeping, the text changing.

"I'm sure you're aware that most of DNA is shared by every organism on the planet?" he said.

Edgar nodded. "Sure, humans and chimps differ by around only 0.1%, despite our massive differences."

"Correct," Wu said as a new screen popped up on the screen; a log of some kind, full of notes and entry's. Edgar peered at one of them.

_Kyle Sanders – June 13__th__, 1993_

_GAP Summary report – Signed and confirmed by chief geneticist Dr. Henry Wu._

_Inspection of the recent aberrant behavior exhibited by Triceratops, ID-32, named 'Bourika' indicates that further alterations are required for GAP program 4.0_

"This is dated…" Edgar murmured.

"The day of the accident," Wu said, "yes."

Wu typed rapidly on the keyboard, and the summary screen disappeared, and was replaced by an index; a list of code names which Edgar found illegible and impossible to pronounce.

"Even 30% of our own DNA is shared with bacterium," Wu murmured, still typing. "Once we figured this out, we reasoned that as some single celled organisms have remained basically the same for billions of years that contemporary DNA couldn't be that much different to the DNA of the dinosaurs. This aided us at first, as due to the gaps in the gene sequences we lifted from the insects bound in amber, we couldn't clone a living animal. But as almost every gene sequence missing from the code was found in other organisms, we could splice it with contemporary DNA."

Edgar frowned. "As far as I know BioSyn has been trying to get a hold of the data you have here for well over a decade. But I've never heard that there were holes in the DNA."

"Even though the insects were preserved remarkably well, the blood they ingested which belonged to the dinosaurs did undergo some degree of degradation, we suspected it was either from oxidizing compounds or the result of electromagnetic radiation emanating from the Earth's core. Whatever it was, it left the DNA with some gaps in it."

Edgar nodded slowly. "I think I see where you're going with this," he said.

Wu stopped typing, and observed the screen in front of him. It showed some kind of three dimensional visual interface; it looked rather primitive to Edgar, but for something like this to have existed in the early nineties would have meant a very fancy system.

Now he was moving the cursor from one small blue box to another blue box, which were mounted on a larger pink block suspended in cyberspace. In the distance of the interface he could see other pink blocks arranged in a crystalline pattern. The cursor jumped from a central pink block, and travelled for a moment through three dimensional space, and arrived at a smaller one, and a line of text below on the screen read, '_Genetics Sub-System; GAP_'.

Wu clicked on it, and the interface disappeared, and the drives whirred underneath the tabletop.

"What's GAP?" Edgar said.

"'_GAP_' is an acronym for the '_Genetics Advancement Program_'. Put basically, the program was initiated in 1989 by me when we discovered how some of the dinosaurs created exhibited deformities, strange behavioural patterns, or how abnormal numbers of still-births occurred. GAP was targeted at the streamlining of the dinosaur DNA, specifically the segments of RANA coding used to fill in the sequence gaps. After years of tinkering with the bases and experimenting with different species of amphibians to complete the dinosaur code, I began to iron out the creases. I released the new codes with each batch of animals cloned, as the most direct practical method of checking that his work was successful. This conformed to the 'grow it and find out' mentality which had been instilled in the company for some time, which was, in hindsight, unwise.

The result of GAP was that the dinosaurs in the park existed in varying stages of development, or as they were commonly referred to by the staff; version numbers. These 'versions' referred to the number of times the code had been altered by me and my geneticists. Most of the dinosaurs alive on Isla Nublar at the time of the incident were around version 3. Some, such as Gallimimus and Triceratops, had turned out better than expected, and had only required two adjustments, resulting in them being left at version 2. However, others had proven more troublesome, such as the Stegosaurus, and Tyrannosaurus, which were in the process of being augmented, and were about to proceed to version 4.

The point being that without this data we would be set back all the way to the beginning, stuck with defunct animals. The DNA streams we could do without if we had to, but GAP was the key.

You see, the thing is that you can replace almost all the DNA with that belonging to other organisms. But everything that we did to improve the code, all the progress we made, was in the GAP program."

Edgar stared at him for a moment, and then nodded slowly.

"What RANA fragments did you use?"

"Amphibians, specifically frogs. They're similar in evolutionary ancestry, and their genomes are somewhat closely related."

"So the dinosaurs are part frog?"

Wu paused for a moment, and then shrugged, and nodded. "Yes, I suppose so. However, most of the genomes we used were identical to the originals."

"How can you tell the difference? I mean, if you cloned them then you'll see what they're like, but you changed their DNA, so they could be different from what they used to be before they became extinct. Since you don't have a frame of reference doesn't that make them a fundamental paradox?"

Wu observed him for a moment, and then nodded, almost appreciatively. "Yes."

The radio crackled sharply, echoing off of the walls. Tim's voice spoke quietly, slowly, and made the very air around them chill.

"Guys," he said, "We have company."

Tim crouched low to the ground, typing as lightly as he could, his eye level just above the tabletop. He crawled over to the terminal next to him, typing rapidly. He hit the return key, and with a dying whir the large strip-lights in the control room died, and he was plunged into darkness, the only light coming from outside in the corridor, and the glow from the monitor in front of him.

He trotted back to the other terminal on his knees, and as fast as he could he began typing again. He reached a screen showing a topographical map of the island. A moment later it had changed to a schematic plan of the visitor centre, with red dots filling its surface, positioned at the divisions between walls. One by one, as Tim typed quickly, the red dots blinked green.

With a _clunk_ the heavy door lock attached to the heavy steel door of the control room snapped into place. Tim sighed, and looked up at the wall running parallel to the corridor outside.

The large windows built into the wall were laced with thin wires for additional strength, but he wasn't encouraged, seeing as one of them had a large gaping hole in it.

A distant memory played before his mind's eye; the grating on the ceiling burst open, the gaping mouth…the teeth.

He stood up cautiously, and walked forwards slowly in the darkened room, padding quietly on the ground. He looked into the corridor; silent and unmoving.

His radio crackled, and with a fit of panic he ran back to the desk, and twisted the power dial, clicking it off. He made his way back over to the window, but as he did so he heard a single, echoing _click_.

Tim froze, and felt his knees tremble beneath him. He held his breath in his lungs, staring forwards with wide eyes.

_Click_.

Tim closed his eyes, swearing silently. He braced himself, tensing his muscles, his eyes darting between the door and the hole in the window; he had to seal it.

He looked towards the towers which contained all of the servers which made up the supercomputers, dotted all around the room.

He moved over to the one nearest to the window which bore the large hole, and stood next to it. He hesitated for a moment, not moving, staring out of the window.

And then, building from nothing, was a low, chilling snarl, which floated through the air towards him. The breath in his lungs felt like ice as the clicking sounds resumed.

With a yell Tim ran towards the tower, and collided with it. It gave a metallic groan, and toppled over sideways. Half of the control room was plunged into almost complete darkness as the window bearing the large hole was completely covered by the huge server tower.

There was another snarl, and then a rapid succession of clicks, coming right for the control room. But the sound was irregular; too fast. There were several of them.

The light streaming in from the small circular window built into the thick steel door dimmed for a moment, before the light resumed, heading for the other window.

Tim ran across the room to the server on the opposite side of the room. The clicking sound rapidly built as he slammed into the server, and as the tower fell smashing onto the carpeting floor with a crash he caught a glimpse of dark, brown scaly flesh.

He shivered as there was a muffled impact on the other side of the window, followed by a snarl.

An answering, low pitched snort emanated from the other side of the control room door. Tim stood in almost complete darkness now, gripping the tabletop behind him.

In the gloom he could just about make out the handle of the door slowly move downwards. For a sickening moment he expected the door to swing open; but instead there was simply a deep boom, and a frustrated growl.

For a moment there was silence; the only sound coming from the fans on the computer terminals dotted about the room. A drop of sweat fell from Tim's nose as the clicks resumed, leading away from the control room, down the corridor; towards the genetics lab.

Wu made for the white, wooden door leading into the lab, but as he took his first few steps he froze, and looked over at Edgar, who was a few feet behind him.

In the dimly lit interior of the room, a small clicking sound began to build out of nowhere. It was coming from the corridor in front of them.

A slow, drawn out hiss rose, the air around them vibrating against their ears. The light outside in the corridor lessened for an instant, and then, slowly, a dark shadow crept upwards along the wall.

The shadow paused for a moment, the shape changing as its perpetrator moved, revealing a long, serpentine head. A long slender, S-shaped neck was revealed next, and a large, blocky body. As Wu watched it began to move once more; towards them.

A menacing snarl filtered into the genetics lab, and Wu tensed.

He gave a wave to Edgar, and they silently ducked down behind the dusty, cobweb smothered trolleys bearing biological chemicals and laboratory experiments.

He could no longer see Edgar, hidden behind a trolley a few feet behind him on the left side of the room. Wu himself was behind a trolley on the right side bearing dozens of test tubes. He put himself into the smallest position he could, trying to remain concealed from view of the door.

The clicking came closer still; now just outside the door. The shadow was elongated against the wall outside; the full outline of the body was now visible. The long neck tapered to a body smoothly curved with large muscles. The arms were long, and he could make out the three curved claws on each finger. The thighs were powerful and dangerous looking. Wu strained his eyes, looking at the foot. He swore silently as his eyes picked out the single, long sickle claw on each foot.

Wu blinked for a moment, stricken. He felt a tickle in his nose; a building prickling sensation in his upper nasal passage. He looked on in horror at the dust particles emanating from the trolley next to him, filtering into the air all around him, reflecting off of the sunlight.

He covered his mouth and nose with his hand, tightly clasping his palm over his face. He suppressed the sneeze, tightly squeezing his eyes shut, his eyes watering.

And then, in the silence, he coughed.

He swore inwardly, and in answer, he heard a deep snarl from the other side of the door. The genetics lab was completely open to the corridor; they were exposed.

"Jesus Christ!" he heard Edgar mutter from behind him.

With a slam, the heavily muscled hind limb of the creature impacted the floor around the threshold of the open doorway leading into the genetics lab. Through the shelves of the trolley Wu could just make out a roughly textured, scaly skin covering to the thick leg. On the pivoted foot, he could see the six inch retractable sickle claw, and he felt his heat begin to pound in his chest.

What were they going to do? Anderson and Guiterrez were gone; they'd taken the only weapons, and Tim was in the control room. No help, no radios; nothing—

With a yell Edgar launched to his feet, the stainless steel framed trolley in front of him clashing onto its side, spilling its contents of chemicals all over the floor. Edgar held Anderson's pistol in his hand, and aimed it right at the animal outside the door. Before Wu could react, he fired once, and a whine shot through the air near Wu's head, and then an echoing impact followed swiftly as the bullet impacted the wall.

"Run!" shouted Edgar, pointing towards the airlock at the back of the room.

There was a high pitched, terrible scream of rage, which seemed to cut straight through him as Wu surged to his feet, and ran towards the back of the room.

A moment later he could hear Edgar's footsteps at his heels, and they sprinted forwards, slipping on the floor tiles, sending chemicals and containers everywhere, causing miniature tornadoes in the dust as they careened past.

Behind them, at the doorway, Wu heard an almighty crash, and he dared a split second glance backwards, and he felt his heart wrench inside his chest.

A dark shape took just past the threshold, head lowered. It snarled at them, long and blood-chilling. With a scream it launched off of its hind legs, and took after them.

With a great slide, and a yell, he felt his left foot run away from him as he stepped into a pool of yellowish liquid, and he skidded for a meter along the floor, flailing his arms. For a sickening moment he thought he was going to fall over, and he began to topple sideways. As he fell, he felt a surging force lift him upwards off his feet, and push him forwards. Looking down in fright, he saw Edgar's hand wrapped around his arm, the knuckles white.

He shook free, and pelted onwards.

Wu flew through the shaft of golden sunlight which filtered in through the single window in the room, his shadow arcing up across the wall eerily for an instant.

He heard another gunshot, and ducked instinctively. He heard the bullet ricocheting off the walls, and somewhere in the room he heard the sound of smashing glass.

Wu slammed into the closed airlock door, and he pried at the handle, his fingers slipping off of the damp metal.

"Get it open!" shouted Edgar, who was pattering rapidly with his feet five feet from Wu, trying to decelerate.

Wu pulled the metal bar down, fighting the door handle. With another glance backwards he saw the dark figure racing towards him at astonishing speed; it has traversed over twenty feet in little more than two seconds.

Edgar grabbed the side of the door with Wu, and together they pulled at the frame of the door, hauling it sideways. For an awful moment the door jammed, held together by the vacuum seal.

And then with a squeal it slid open, and they piled inside, slamming against the other door on the other side of the antechamber room.

Wu fought the spinning sensation he felt as he pushed his forehead away from the thick glass of the inner door, and whirled around, lunging to close the outer door.

He was shocked to see the animal less than ten feet from them; it was almost on them. Wu grabbed the handle, and with a yell, he slammed the door shut.

There was a confirming _plunk_ as the vacuum seal activated, and Wu saw the handle on the outer door retract to its original position.

There was a high whine as the fan started up, but it was overshadowed by the heavy _thud_ from the other side of the door as the dark shape collided headlong with the steel door, the brown flesh smearing against the glass.

There was a frustrated snarl, and the creature fell back, stumbling back into the genetics lab.

With a roar the freezing chemical spray covered their bodies, and Wu put his arm up in front of his face to shield his eyes. There was a twin rush of hot air in quick succession, and then the inner door slid open.

They both hurried into the Cryo-Room, and slammed the inner door shut behind them. The locking mechanism slid back into place, and they stood motionless for a moment, looking through the two consecutive small glass windows built into the steel doors, looking back into the genetics lab.

A muffled snarl made it through to their ears, and the creature stumbled back into the golden shaft of light streaming in through the window, and Wu swore as it was fully illuminated before him.

The Velociraptor stood six feet tall, and was nine feet long. Its long head tapered to a thin snout; the jaws full of razor sharp, backwards curving teeth. The sickle claw adorning each feet tapped against the ground in frustration. The dark green, merciless eyes swiveled in the rounded sockets, the vertical pupil locking onto him.

Wu shivered as the piercing glare struck him like a physical blow.

For a moment the Raptor simply stared at him, and then looked at Edgar. It snarled, and charged at the door, and head butted the steel, which resonated loudly.

The Raptor snarled again, and stepped back, seemingly unharmed.

"Fuck me," Edgar whispered slowly, staring at the Raptor, his face pale.

Wu's eyes widened as he looked over at Edgar, and he sensed movement behind him. For a moment he thought there was something in the room with them, but then he saw it was down in the hatchery, illuminated by the spotlights.

Another, larger Raptor stood absolutely still on the other side of the pane of glass, ten feet below them. The dark brown, rough skin glowed in the harsh light; the sickle claw on the foot was raised high in a fixed position. There were no subtle movements, no balance corrections, not even the visible movements of breathing. It was completely still, and it was looking right at him.

And then, almost imperceptibly slowly, the Raptor tilted its head laterally to the side, observing them sideways on.

The hairs all over his body stood on end.

Edgar looked at him for a moment, and then followed his gaze, and saw the second Raptor, and recoiled, further back into the Cryo-Room.

"Fuck me, sideways!" he breathed. "What are they?"

"Velociraptors," Wu said.

Edgar looked from one Raptor to the other, and then looked at Wu. "How dangerous?"

Wu gave a humorless laugh. "You have no idea."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Edgar murmured, glancing back and forth at the Raptors uneasily.

Wu stepped forwards to the pane of glass, looking down at the Raptor in the hatchery below. He began speaking quietly, still staring at the Raptor.

"The Tyrannosaurs, every other carnivores on this island; they're just that. Carnivores; they're just doing what they do. There's no thought, no plans, no evil. But these guys… They'll kill for sport, for fun. In the natural world; they're the villains."

The Raptor snarled up at him, baring its glowing white fangs.

"Careful," Edgar murmured, frowning. "Can't they get through the glass?"

Wu shook his head. "This room borders the hatchery, which was kept at a lower pressure and a different atmospheric concentration. Because this room is vacuum sealed, the glass is built to take the force of the pressure."

Wu paused for a second, and then looked down at the pistol handgun which was held limply in Edgar's hand.

"Where'd you get that?" he said.

Edgar stared for a moment, looked down at the gun in his hand, and then back at Wu. "What?"

"Guiterrez had the gun."

Edgar sniffed, and backed up a few steps. "He must have dropped it somewhere."

"You took it?"

Edgar frowned, and then looked at the Raptors outside the room. "You going to complain?"

"Given the present situation, no…"

Wu approached the large server, and began typing on the small keypad on the shelf, plugging in the first of the portable hard drives.

"How are we going to get out of here when you're done?" Edgar said, standing at the airlock door, looking at the Raptor milling around in the genetics lab.

"We'll worry about that later."

The heavy door of the control room in the geothermal power plant banged open in the gloom, and Guiterrez looked in carefully before entering. Anderson followed a moment later, backing into the room, aiming his rifle outside.

He closed the door behind him, and there was a _clunk_ as the lock slammed into place, sealing them in.

With a click the strip lights on the ceiling flickered to life, the sound of the generator underneath them whirring to life.

Guiterrez walked over to the computer terminal which Tim had used before, and hit the power button. An electronic sizzle sparked over the servers lining the wall at the back of the room, a flash of light illuminating them for a moment, before the drives of the computer whirred, and screen came to life before them. Anderson pulled up a heavily dusted swivel chair, and sat down heavily, resting his feet on the table as Guiterrez gripped the cursor, looking at the screen in front of him.

The screen flashed up, at the main menu; it hadn't logged Tim out of the system. The screen was bright blue, and the InGen logo was printed in the top portion of the monitor.

_**InGen Geothermal Power Facility**_

_Main Access_

Guiterrez looked at the screen in front of him, and then stopped, and frowned. He didn't know what to do next. The computers that he was used to using were novice-compatible, the standard modern operating systems. He wasn't fluent in the command line code language necessary to operate the system.

"I need the radio," he said, holding his hand out.

Anderson reached into his pocket, and rustled around, producing the radio in his palm. He handed it over, flicking the power button on.

Guiterrez took it, and pressed transmit.

"Tim, I need help here; what do I do?"

There was a crackle of static, which quickly dissipated. Guiterrez waited for a moment, but there was nothing; no answer.

"Tim?" Are you there?"

There was still no answer. Anderson frowned, and leaned forwards. He took the radio.

"Wu, you there?"

"Nice to hear from you, Colonel Kurtz," said Edgar's voice.

Anderson's face contorted for a moment, and then he said. "Is Wu with you?"

"I'm here," said Wu's voice over the sound of typing.

"Where's Tim?"

"Beats me, we're in a bit of a bind here."

Anderson frowned, and looked at Guiterrez, who simply shrugged. "Alright, do you know how to operate the systems in the geothermal plant?"

There was a brief pause. "Not really, but try 'Go to radio net. Make sure 'go to' is a single word and that you hyphenate the sentence."

Guiterrez nodded, and slowly typed out the characters on the keyboard.

_: Goto_radio-net_

He hit the return key. The discs whirred, and then the screen changed.

"I didn't see any radio dish on the roof," Guiterrez said as he waited for the terminal.

"It's on the other side of the plant," Wu said.

The screen became uniform black, and bright green text scrolled onto the monitor rapidly.

_**Radio Tower Communications Offline**_

Guiterrez looked at Anderson, who simply looked confused. He simply hit the return button, and he was startled for a moment as the terminal beeped loudly, and the text retracted from the screen, and then new text scrolled on.

_**Would you like to initialize Radio Communications?**_

Guiterrez paused for a moment, and then pushed the 'Y' button. Again, the terminal beeped loudly, and the text retracted from the screen, the cursor moving swiftly left across the monitor. A moment later it scrolled back the way it had come, new text following it swiftly.

_**Power Output Minimal Efficiency – 20%**_

_**Would you like to initialize Radio Communications?**_

Guiterrez made a strange sound, indecisive sound, and looked at Anderson questioningly. Anderson merely shrugged, and pushed the 'Y' button.

"Can't hurt now," he said.

All of a sudden a burst of harsh static burst from a microphone, which lay hidden behind the monitor, shrouded by thick cobwebs.

Guiterrez reached over, and pulled it forwards, brushing the dust away with his fingers, the gleaming metallic sheen glowing in the gloom of the room.

"Hello?" he said into it experimentally. "Hello? Anybody there?"

Anderson pointed at the screen, where long streams of numbers were scrolling across the screen, the integers changing, flicking backwards and forwards.

"What's this?" Guiterrez said, gesturing to the screen.

"I think it's the radio channel measured in Hertz," Anderson said, rubbing his chin with his hand.

For a moment he didn't move, and then he reached over Guiterrez's shoulder, and began typing on the keyboard. Guiterrez frowned as Anderson hit the return key, and the numbers on the screen changed, and then locked on to a frequency.

"What's that?"

"It's the radio frequency of the fleet monitoring the Las Cinco Muertes island chain," Anderson said slowly, staring at the screen.

Guiterrez's eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

Anderson looked at him for a moment, and then smiled. "I used to be stationed there. I took part in the navy effort after the San Diego incident."

Guiterrez stared for a moment. "Oh."

Anderson grabbed the microphone, and pressed transmit.

"San Juan approach, this is Major. John Anderson, come in please."

There was a moment silence, and then a southern drawl filtered into the room, the voice crackled and intermittent.

"This is Colonel Terry Davis, how did you get this channel?"

Anderson ignored him. "We are in need of immediate assistance, please help."

"I'm going to ask you to change your broadcast channel immediately, sir…"

"Just listen to me!"

"Listen, we get pranks like this all of the time. You are risking prosecution and jail-time if this is a false call."

Anderson raised his voice. "Listen, pal, I used to be stationed right there with the fleet, and I am requesting your assistance. We are in mortal peril."

The man's demeanor changed slightly.

"What's your location?"

"Isla Nublar, eighty miles north-east of Isla Sorna."

There was a pause. "That island is restricted property, son, now what is this about?"

"An InGen expedition has suffered a major incident, there was several casualties. This island harbors biological hostiles and we require imminent extraction."

Over the radio we could hear muttering voices, and the sound of sailors calling to each other in the background. "We're approximately sixty miles from your position, we'll be there as soon as possible."

Guiterrez grinned. "Hot damn!" he said.

"Air-extraction at the helipad located at the north-west of the island," Anderson said.

"Roger that, Terry Davis out."

There was the blast of a shipping horn in the background, and the sound of crashing waves against the hull of the ship. The sound of hollering sailors carried over as the ship came about.


	49. Chapter 47: The Lodge

Chapter 47

**The Lodge**

"Everybody still there?" Tim said into the radio as he clicked it on in the darkened control room.

"What happened to you?" Guiterrez's voice said.

"I was hoping they'd go away if I kept the noise down," he said, staring at the twin servers blocking the glass windows, "But apparently they know I'm in here."

He stepped towards the computer terminal hesitantly as a slow snarl drifted into the room from down the hall. He hit the return key, and saw the door lock system, all glowing green strongly.

"Who know you're where?" Anderson's voice said over the roaring engine of the Jeep.

"I'm in the control room. As to who…well, that remains to be confirmed."

He heard Guiterrez give a bark of humorless laughter over the radio. "Bull," he said.

Tim sighed, and wiped the sweat off his brow, glancing over his shoulder quickly. He saw a dark shadow flick across the light streaming in through the small window on the door. "Where are you two?"

"On our way back to the visitor area," Guiterrez said.

Tim felt an unnerving sense well up from inside him, and took a deep breath. "You call for help?"

"They're on their way."

Typing quickly, he accessed the radio systems, and the screen blinked dark black for a moment, the drives whirring. And then the screen blinked, bright blue, showing 'Radio systems operational.'

Despite himself, Tim smiled for a moment. Then he shook himself. "Did you hear from Sarah or Ian?"

"They're somewhere in the jungle, they're trying to get back too. Once they find a road we'll go back out and pick them up. But for the time being we're heading back to the control room. We'll be there in two minutes."

Tim made a strange sound in his throat. "I wouldn't."

He tried to stop himself as he said it, but the words came out by themselves. He could have kicked himself.

There was a long silence, and then Anderson said, "Why not?"

Tim rubbed his forehead, growling to himself. Finally, he said, "We have a problem."

Wu lifted his head from his strained position, and smiled to himself, breathing slightly heavily. "Alright," he said, "I'm done."

Edgar turned around from the heavy metal door, frowning. "You're done?"

"I've got everything I need," Wu said. "All of the DX research data is now on the drive." He tapped the portable hard drive, which clinked dully on the shining metallic surface of the shelf.

"Don't you want to get anything else?" Edgar said, waving his hands a little ecstatically. "I mean, all the data that's on this system, isn't it valuable at all?"

Wu frowned. "Extremely valuable…but we don't need it."

"What about the GAP data? I mean, we're stuck in here for now, so why not collect as much as you can? This is your life's work; don't you want to know more?"

Edgar span around suddenly as the Raptor down in the hatchery suddenly gave a screeching yelp, and they both covered their ears against the high pitched noise, which made the metal in the room seem to vibrate.

An answering call came from the other Raptor in the genetics lab on the other side of the two metal doors, its brown, scaly body glowing in the golden strip of light.

They looked backwards and forwards at the two Raptors standing in the two different room below them, who had now both frozen, stock still. They turned their heads sideways, turning their ears towards the sky. Their eyes darted in their sockets at nowhere in particular, and Wu felt that he could almost see its mind working; he could see it thinking. He shivered at the prospect of its intelligence.

And then, simultaneously, the Raptors gave long, terrible snarls, and then turned together, and dashed towards the respective doors which marked the exits of the room that they were in. Crashes and crunches echoed from all around them as the Raptors careened into egg trays and trolleys, sending them flying; bouncing off metallic work surfaces, their claws leaving deep gouges in the material.

The first Raptor in the hatchery slammed into the rotting wooden door, tearing away a stretch of paneling as it scampered out into the corridor.

Within a few moments, both Raptors were gone, running off down towards the rotunda of the visitor centre. And then, faintly, they could hear the building sound of a vehicle's engine.

Wu stared at Edgar for a moment. And then he turned around, and accessed the GAP data, and began the transfer, trying to shake off the strange feeling building inside of him.

Anderson span the wheel, dodging around the massive pieces of broken wooden splinters, which were the only remains of the doors which had filled the stone gate, marking the entrance to the park. In the canopy of the jungle to their right was the second massive door, perched precariously, threatening to crash to the floor at any moment. They raced through the open gate, towards the visitor centre.

"What do you think he meant?" Guiterrez said, perched in his chair, looking at the black, anodized metal of Anderson's assault rifle.

Anderson pressed the accelerator, the electrical engine whining in a high pitched tone under the hood. "I don't' know, but he didn't sound very positive about anything."

"Since when has that guy been positive?"

"I don't know."

The radio crackled. "I really mean it," Tim said. "Stay away."

Guiterrez grabbed the radio, and pressed the transmit button, speaking in a low voice, trying to calm himself. "Then can you please tell us why we have to stay away?"

Tim sighed over the radio. "A moment ago we had animals in the building."

Guiterrez frowned in his seat as the cloud of mist appeared up ahead, swirling in the afternoon sun. I was thinning now, but it was still very noticeable in comparison to the brightness which surrounded them. "What animals?"

Tim didn't answer for a moment. And then he said; "Well, I'm not sure. I didn't see them."

"But something tells me you may have an inkling."

"…Velociraptors, I'd say."

Guiterrez smiled hollowly, leaning back in his seat. "You were worried about them before we came here, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"Then what are they doing here?"

"Wait, wait," said Anderson as they entered the fog, slowing down to avoid driving off of the road, "What do you mean 'a moment ago'?"

"Well I was trying to tell you," Tim began.

"Hey! What is it?" Anderson said angrily.

Tim cursed quietly. "They just left," he said, "And my guess is that they know you're coming."

Anderson cursed, and brought his rifle up from the floor of the cabin, and onto his lap, facing the door horizontally. They hurried along past the main road, and with a bump they made the transition from the tarmac to the dirt road which ran throughout the visitor area.

"You're not still coming?..." Tim said slowly.

"What else are we supposed to do?" Guiterrez said, looking out of the windows warily.

"Go and pick up Harding and Malcolm, and take them somewhere safe, for Christ sake."

They turned a last corner, and the visitor centre and the pond appeared in front of them, just visible through the mist.

"What do we do?" Guiterrez said.

Anderson gripped the wheel as they pulled up, and the engine died in the silence of the endless whiteness which surrounded them on all sides.

"When I say," he said slowly, "Get out of the car, don't look around, don't do anything else other than run up those steps, and get inside—"

With a roar the window in the back seat caved in, and the window in the boot of the car shattered with a clatter, shards of glass flying in all directions, cutting into the faces as they turned to look in horror.

Guiterrez caught a glance of brown, scaly skin flashing by his window, only to be immediately replaced by fog. He felt his heart jump into his throat, and in a moment of panic he flung the passenger door open, and despite Anderson's shouts of protest, he leapt out into the mist.

As he climbed out, he caught glimpsed of dark shapes all around them, and he heaved his lungs in panic as he tried to breath in the thick, humid air of the foggy cloud. He tripped on a rock, and with a yell he fell to the ground with a crash, grazing his elbows. Panting, he scrambled to his feet as the sound of Anderson's driver door opening filled his ears.

He pushed himself to his feet with the bottom step of the visitor centre, and as he made to run towards the two double doors they burst open, and a six foot tall, snarling figure filled the doorway. In the one second that it took for him to register its presence, and for the creature to crouch down low, ready to strike, time seemed to slow down. He saw the animal's dark brown, scaly skin, and its sharp, cold green eyes which bore vertical pupils. And most noticeable of all, he saw the jaw full of fierce, sharp teeth.

With a grunt, Anderson collided with him, pushing him out of the way as the Raptor leapt from its position with a roar, jumping ten feet in the air towards him. Guiterrez and Anderson were sent rolling in the dirt as the Raptor slammed into the roof of the cabin of the Jeep, the roof denting inwards, the photovoltaic paneling sizzling and spitting sparks. The Raptor gave a scream of anger as it turned from its perched position on the roof to face them, and Guiterrez was pulled to his feet as his lifeless body focused on the six inch retractable claw clicking up and down on both feet.

He felt his throat constrict against the material of his shirt as Anderson hauled him to his feet and pull him off, away from the Jeep and visitor centre.

They ran across the road as the fog seemed to move in closer from all directions, and he almost tripped over the metallic bar running along the centre of the road as he ran. Everything became a blur, and he felt himself shaking as he stumbled over the grassy field, adjacent to the pond.

Anderson pushed him ahead, and crouched down on one knee, bringing his rifle up to his shoulder. "Run!" he shouted.

Guiterrez turned and bolted across the field, his legs pumping as fast as he could push himself, his heavy, panicked breathing barely visible over the sound of rapid gunfire as Anderson unleashed a battery of bullets. Guiterrez glanced back, and saw the Raptor on the roof scream in rage as two of the bullets slammed into its chest, and it tumbled over, falling from the roof of the Jeep onto the marble steps of the visitor centre. A moment later a second Raptor appeared at the top of the stairs, standing where the first had stood moments before, and lifted its head. With a rancorous yelp, it roared at them, the sound echoing in the small valley. To his astonishment he saw the first Raptor stir, and begin to get to its feet, leaving twin red bloody splashes on the white stone steps.

Anderson leapt to his feet, and gave chase as Guiterrez turned around, and saw shapes all around him. He heard a deep splash, and with a glance he saw another Velociraptor sliding headlong into the pond twenty feet from them, swimming across with its powerful hind legs, only the top of its head visible, the cold eyes locked onto them.

Anderson caught up to him within seconds, and they both sprinted across the field; but Guiterrez had no idea where they were going. He didn't even know if Anderson had any kind of plan.

With a roar, two more Raptors burst from the foliage of the jungle ahead of them, ten meters apart, and ran right for them, closing in from two directions.

Shit, they were so organized! Guiterrez and Anderson wheeled around as the five Raptors roared and snarled behind them, running back down the main road.

There were so many of them, he thought in panic as they ran side by side; how had they not seen any of them so far? And they seemed to know exactly what to do; how to split them up, and how to get to them, and how to kill them. And here they were, running across a field, towards nowhere.

Anderson put his rifle on his shoulder, aiming behind them, and pulled the trigger, firing a burst of bullets spraying at their pursuers.

"Ah, fuck!" Guiterrez shouted as he shielded his face from the bullet casings as they flew from Anderson's rifle.

"Don't stop! We're almost there!" Anderson shouted over the roars of the Raptors.

"Almost where?" Guiterrez shouted back. But as he said it, the twin pyramid structures appeared on the other side of the bunch of trees marking the thin slab of jungle ahead of them. They were running towards the Safari Lodge.

With a crash they entered the jungle, the fog around them intermingling with darkened foliage as the thundered into the gloom, casting tall ferns out of their way. Guiterrez's hands grasped wet leaves, and rough bark; he felt splinters push their way into his fingers as he slammed into a thick tree trunk, and bounced off it, stumbling on through the trees, chasing after Anderson's dark form ahead of him.

"Come on!" Anderson shouted.

Behind them, Guiterrez could hear the Raptors crash into the jungle after them, their snarls amplified in the dark, enclosed space.

Guiterrez growled as he charged after Anderson, leaping over a fallen log, his lungs heaving as he tore air down his windpipe. The thought of the Safari Lodge caused him to surge ahead, and with a crash Anderson disappeared onto the other side of a large frond ahead of him.

Guiterrez leapt forwards, and with a crash he burst out into the bright light, the sun slamming down on his head with renewed ferocity as he realized that he had passed out of the field of fog. Thirty feet away he saw a twenty foot high, thick black cyclone fence towering above them. The fence had almost no degradation whatsoever, with the exception of a few flecks of old paint; separated from the jungle by a large field. Anderson grabbed him, and pulled him off to one side, parallel to the fence, heading straight for a eight foot high ante-chamber gate system, the outer door lay swinging open in the wind ahead of them.

With a snarl the first of the Raptors skidded from the jungle ten feet behind them, and gave a scream of rage as it saw them racing forwards towards the gate.

Anderson seized the metal door, and pulled it wide open as two more Velociraptors flew from the jungle right behind them, soaring ten feet upwards through the air.

Guiterrez dived into the antechamber, followed immediately by Anderson, who pulled the outer gate shut with a _clang_. Less than a second later the two Raptors slammed down on the wiring of the gate, snarling viciously. Saliva sprayed from their jaws out at Guiterrez as they swung their heads from side to side, trying to bite through the bars and to get their heads through to get at them.

Guiterrez swung around desperately in the enclosed space of the fence, and ran through to the inner door, trying to get it open, his fingers scrambling on the stiff, damp metal. He crouched instinctively as the sound of gunfire rang in his ears. The screeches of the other Raptors approaching from all sides made his fingers slip even more; he couldn't get a grip on anything; he couldn't even think.

And then, through the mayhem, he heard a crackle. He paused for a moment as another Raptor charged at the fence ten feet away, growling. The crackle came again, and then Anderson stopped firing, and pulled the small radio from his waistband.

"-et – om the –ce!"

"What?" Anderson shouted into it, stepping away from the outer door as the Raptor's cold eyes stared at them. Slowly, the metal was being pulled out of shape; the hole through which their heads could fit getting larger by the second.

"Get away from the fence!" Tim's voice shouted.

"We're trying!" Guiterrez shouted back, trying to tear the bolted inner door open.

"No!" Stand away from the fence!"

He meant to stand away from the surface of the metal, Guiterrez thought.

"Why would we--?"

"NOW!"

Guiterrez let go of the fence, and they both backed away, standing in the middle of the two doors. A moment later there was a high, building whine from somewhere beneath them, and then explosions went off all around them as the fence suddenly became electrified. Sparks flew off of the metal all around them, and Guiterrez crouched down and shielded his eyes as the Raptors gave simultaneous screams of pain.

And then the whine died, and the sparks stopped.

Guiterrez looked around with a deep breath, and then surged to his feet, and gripped the thick bolt lock of the inner door of the gate. Anderson grabbed it as well a moment later, and they both pulled at it. The metal squealed in protest, the rusted lock sliding across slowly. And then, with a _clunk_, the metallic lock slid rapidly to the side, and the gate swung open in front of them.

They fell through, and Anderson slammed it shut behind them, locking it back in place.

They both stood in the overgrown grass for a moment, looking at the Raptors as they backed away from the fence, snarling at each other. One of them limped as it bled from its abdomen, whimpering to itself quietly. Other than that, it seemed just as determined as the rest of them.

"I'd get inside if I were you," Tim's voice said, emanating from Anderson's waist.

They turned and hurried across the grass, and ascended the small wooden flight of stairs to the heavy wooden door of the lodge.

"How did you do that?" Anderson said into the radio.

"Do what?" Tim asked.

"The fences; you said we didn't have anywhere near enough power."

"I know I did. And we definitely do not have enough power to run the fences all the time."

"You mean we can turn them on for a little bit?" Guiterrez asked.

"Kind of. Since we got here I've been writing a program to pulse the fences around the lodge, but I don't know how long the system can handle it."

"How do you know how to do that?" Guiterrez said, turning to look at the Raptors as they gave a final snarl and darted back into the jungle.

"Having a hacker for a sister is helpful," Tim said.

Guiterrez smirked despite himself, and looked back the lodge.

It looked very sturdy; deadbolts and metal plating covered it wherever aesthetics allowed. Guiterrez looked around at the thick bricked walls, and the small windows, which were al covered by thick metal bars. The lodge was a tank, which had been cleverly disguised as a hotel.

Anderson grasped the door, and turned the handle. It clicked, and with a heave Anderson pushed, and it opened slowly, revealing a dimly lit, expensive interior.

They walked through quickly, and slammed the door behind them. Anderson quickly bolted it shut in three places, and then stepped back; looking at the ornately decorated door; the varnished wood and the elegant silky curtain cover which dressed the tiny, thick window.

"Look at this place," Guiterrez said slowly as he walked into the small atria room, looking around at the many rooms leading away from him.

Anderson looked around, nodding. The power was on in here, and the lamps were all on in every room; the chandelier high above them was glowing strongly. The building was offered no light from the outside through the occasional, tiny window, and therefore the artificial light gave the entire place a warm, golden glow from the light bulbs. It was comforting.

"Looks great," Guiterrez said, "We can hole up in here until they come for us."

Anderson was shaking his head slowly. "That's if they don't get past the fence. And we still have Sarah and Ian to worry about."

Guiterrez nodded slowly. "What do we do?" he said.

Anderson strode forwards, towards the nearest doorframe, aiming his rifle ahead of him. "First things first; check that this place is secure."


	50. Chapter 48: Too Good To Be True

Chapter 48

**Too Good To Be True**

It was beginning to get dark.

The trees were losing their ethereal green glow, and were looking blacker, cloaked in the shadows of their neighbors. The leaves, which blocked out most of the sunlight even in the middle of the day, were now inhibiting the dying light to the point that on the jungle floor, it was twilight.

Walking through the thick undergrowth and thick tangles of vines and roots was a serious impediment, and moving undetected was becoming increasingly difficult as even the trees themselves seemed to come to life, creaking gently in the evening breeze. The calls of a thousand different animals emanated from every direction, unseen in the dense forest. Cries of pain and fear were intermingled with those of predatory frustration, and hunger.

The trees swirled in circles all around, and the dizziness would not cease. Without water, it was difficult to get a clear head.

Dodgson grunted in pain, falling to his knees as another streak of pain shot through his skull. The force of the impact from the fall rippled up his body, and Dodgson gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out as the sensation of having a hot knife pressed into his ribcage soared up his spinal cord to his brain.

He had awoken in the jungle ten minutes before, alone. He found it difficult to remember what had happened; something about a radio…and Malcolm.

With his makeshift walking stick in pieces it was harder to move around with his injured body, and finding his way across the island had proven almost impossible at first.

However, he was now pretty sure that he was moving in the right direction, and that he was near the boat. He didn't care about the dinosaurs anymore; he just wanted to go home.

There was a snarl in the jungle behind him in the distance, followed by a hollow scream. Dodgson's eyes opened wide in the darkened jungle at the sound. In a muddle puddle at his feet he could see his white eyes glowing palely against his mud soaked face.

He took a deep breath as he felt his heart begin to beat faster in his chest, and grabbed a thick stalk of a nearby fern. He pulled hard, lifting himself to his feet, biting his tongue against the pain. His boots sloshed in the mud as he stumbled forwards slowly in the midst of the jungle, casting the eight foot tall ferns out of his way. He walked steadily down a slight downwards gradient. He found this slightly relieving; he didn't have to put so much effort into walking, and he could simply let gravity do most of the work. A small part of him felt the urge to simply sit down and slide along the floor. He sighed as he trudged downwards through the island, cradling his injured abdomen with one hand.

By his estimates he was less than a mile from the eastern shore of the island; the decline confirmed it. The island was pretty much a hollowed crater from an old volcanic eruption. The east side of the crater wall seemed to have fallen into the ocean a long time ago, leaving it lower that all of the other sides of the island.

The boat was parked up along the eastern dock; and he was close. He was sure of it.

He almost stopped; he was surprised at how much he had been degraded from such a short time on the island. One day had turned him from a powerful manager of a biotech firm traveling to collect the biggest paycheck of his life to a groveling cripple scrambling through some god-forsaken jungle on an island in the south pacific.

No discovery was worth this. The technology was invaluable to BioSyn, and of course there was no way that they would be able to replicate the technology themselves in any adequate time frame; other biotech firms were competing with them for the same thing; albeit, they didn't have the knowledge about InGen that he did. But the truth was that the San Diego incident had created a real public knowledge about the possibility of replicating extinct animals with the use of the emerging field of biotechnology. Before InGen, all the field had offered the general population was the promise of new health and recreation, and cosmetic opportunities.

But now everybody knew that it was possible to bring back the dinosaurs, and anything else that was now extinct on earth.

It was just that nobody could quite get the hang of it the way InGen had. It was just too difficult to get the DNA in sequence, and to get a live birth. It was a fiercely competitive race to monopoly.

But nothing was worth this. Hell, he thought, this island wasn't going to be here much longer. If he couldn't have the technology, then nobody else was going to get it. So there was no worry. They could still cash in on some of the findings that BioSyn had managed to salvage—

He felt a jolt in his heart as it leapt in his chest as all of a sudden he lost traction on the soft mud. His feet shot out from underneath him, and he crashed to the ground, pain searing throughout his body. On the incline he felt himself sliding along the ground, heading steadily downhill. Through pain-streaked, watering eyes, he made a desperate grab for the stalk of a nearby vine, grappling at the ground with both of his blood stained hands.

But he couldn't quite reach, and his body flipped over horizontally, and he was face down in the mud. He felt cold soil on his lips, and he closed his mouth tightly. His head span as he felt himself already spinning over once more. Dodgson was spinning out of control, falling down the hill.

How far down did it go? Surely it wasn't this steep.

But regardless of his thoughts, he felt his body begin to spin faster, and he twirled helplessly on the muddy ground, hurtling down the hill. Ferns and leaves slashed at his face, torn up from their roots as he flew down towards the floor of the island, his hands flailing uselessly.

He felt his body being compressed, and pushed, and crumbled. Pain seared all over his body; especially from his shoulders and his ribcage; which felt more like his internal organs were in a cage made of nails.

Dodgson yelled in agony as he careened down the hill, spinning so fast that he didn't know where he was. He felt the blood in his body surge to his extremities from the centripetal force of his spinning, and he felt his face blush red fiercely, threatening to pop.

And then, with a bone crunching thud, his body crumpled in a heap, face down in the mud. His legs remained up at forty five degrees to the rest of his body, lying on the gradient of the beginning to the hill.

For a moment he felt nothing but the blood flying back around his body, and he waited for the inevitable pain. He tried to inhale, and then it hit him, and he squeezed his eyes shut as his ribcage burned with such intensity that he almost lost consciousness.

For a moment he didn't move, and simply lay there, breathing as shallowly as he could. He saw spots erupt in front of his eyes, and his body throbbed all over. Every nerve in his body was crying out to him.

Dodgson growled through gritted teeth, and began crawling forwards, his fingers digging into the earth. He dragged himself along slowly, making large raking tears in the ground.

He wasn't going to be beaten by this island; he was nearly there, he could sense it. Only another mile, and he would be on the boat, and he could go home.

_Clink._

Dodgson's right hand came to an abrupt halt as it hit the ground, his fingertip numbed by pain as it came into contact with something solid. Dodgson frowned, and tried to push past it; to pull himself along. But it wouldn't budge.

Dodgson opened his eyes narrowly, breathing heavily, and looked ahead of him. His hand was buried two inches into the soil, which looked the same as the rest all around him.

He frowned, and took his fingers out, revealing four round holes in the ground where they had been. He groaned in pain as he dragged himself forwards and he looked down.

Through the gloom, behind the grit and mud, he could just about make out a metallic sheen, glinting in the dying light. Dodgson put his hand back into the hole, and raked away at the mud, pulling away a streak of soil. He propped himself up on his elbows, wincing, and tore at the ground weakly with his hands.

He stopped, and for a moment he simply stared. Dodgson's brain ceased all thought as he looked at the object in the ground, dumbfounded. In the ground was a round cylinder, roughly six inches long. Most of the body of the cylinder was grayish, and the rest was blue, with a hint of red. In disbelief, he pushed the back with his palm, and to top popped up from its resting place, revealing a standard spray nozzle.

Dodgson took the muddy canister in his hands, and turned it over, looking at it from all angles. He eyed it warily, and then gingerly wiped the mud away, revealing the logo beneath.

It was a Barbasol can of shaving cream.

Dodgson's eyes widened and he looked up at the ground before him, and inhaled sharply. A vehicle lay in front of him; well, at least, what was left of it. It had once been a Jeep, a standard issue for the Nublar facility. But it was heavily rusted; the entire paint scheme was now undetectable beneath the copper colored rusted surface. The driver door lay open, hanging off of its hinges. The windshield was smashed, a few tendrils of glass adhering to the frame. Most of the Jeep had been overgrown in vegetation; vines and ferns covered the entire back half, and had engulfed the front wheels.

Dodgson crawled forwards a few inches, and gave a tug, pulling away a chunk of the ferns which covered the Jeep. They cracked, and the entire bundle came away from their moorings in his hands. He tossed them aside, and jolted in fright.

A skeleton lay on the ground before him, its legs still lying on the decaying leather of the driver's seat. Its arms lay outstretched before him, the stick-like fingers curled over into tight fists. The skull stared up at him, the bottom jaw lay open wide, balanced on the ground.

Nedry.

"Son of a bitch," Dodgson whispered.

Two minutes later he had struggled to his feet, and was looking down at the skeleton before him, shaking his head. After all this time, Nedry had gone through with it. At least, he had planned on it. Dodgson had forked out well over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars for Nedry, and he hadn't entirely trusted him. But it turned out that he had been reliable all along, and he had always intended to keep up his end of the bargain. He was close to the dock too.

Dodgson looked down at the Barbasol can, and crouched awkwardly, wincing in pain, and placed the can next to Nedry's body.

He looked down at the body, and sighed to himself.

The mangled body was the embodiment of everything Dodgson was trying to do. There was the intention, the willpower and the ability to make this work, and to make a lot of money, but just before he could achieve his goal, it slipped through his fingers.

Dodgson looked down at Nedry's body one more time, and then turned away, and walked forwards through the small clearing in which the Jeep lay. He reached the other side within a few steps, and was about to cross the threshold into thick jungle once more when a distant snarl caused him to freeze, and whirl around. He froze, crouching instinctively, his eyes moving in his sockets. He saw nothing but foliage, the Jeep, and Nedry's body. Dodgson remained where he was for a few moments, and then made to leave once more.

But as he turned, something white caught his eye, and he stopped, frowning. In the bushes, three feet away, a group of elongated white blobs adorned the ground. He felt a sudden elation as he ambled forwards, the white blobs becoming larger in his field of vision, and he cast the bushes aside.

He gasped to himself in the gloom as the nest of eggs lay before him. They were thin, and long, speckled with light brown intermittently along their shells.

He crouched down in the dark, and examined them closely. He counted eight in all, arranged in concentric circles; all intact. Dodgson looked around warily at the stationary foliage; any nest wouldn't be left unguarded for too long. Regardless of the species to which the nest belonged, it wasn't worth taking any chances.

All of his past doubts and frustration were gone from his mind immediately, forgotten in a flash. Opportunities burst forth into his mind; they had come for live animals, sure. But all the DNA they needed was right here, even if the embryo didn't survive.

Glancing around, Dodgson tore a strip of his shirt, and rolled it up into a cradling pillow. He gingerly picked up the nearest of the eggs, and wrapped it up in the muddy material, breathing slowly to calm himself. He could feel his heart beating heavily in his chest as he stood up slowly, and moved off, treading carefully.

He passed into twilight as he crossed the threshold into the thickness of the jungle. In the distance he heard a ship's fog horn blare out, echoing in the enclosed space of the forest. He could hear the crew already.

Dodgson smiled to himself, his eyes twinkling as he trudged through the jungle towards the dock.


	51. Chapter 49: Truth and Betrayal

Chapter 49

**Truth and Betrayal**

"You better start talking," Guiterrez said as he pattered down the wooden steps into the basement of the Safari Lodge into darkness. His footsteps creaked loudly on the boards. His feet touched bottom, and as he took a few steps into the dark space his shoes made deep echoing sounds on the floor.

"Talk about what?" Tim said.

"Where to begin," Anderson said over the radio. He was outside, patrolling the fences. Guiterrez had kept the door unlocked for now, which he found oddly unnerving, considering the armed soldier and twenty foot electrified fence between him and anything else. They had been at the lodge for well over half an hour without any real incident. As far as they could tell the lodge was still in pretty decent shape, and was secure to a tee. It was by far the healthiest looking building on the island; it had hardly aged at all in the harsh environment. It looked just as it had been left over a decade earlier, bar a few cobwebs.

They hadn't seen any sign of the Raptors since they chased Anderson and Guiterrez through the gate. Apart from the occasional sound of their snarls, they were nowhere to be found. The fact that there weren't visible prayed on Guiterrez's mind; as far as he saw it there were two things that they were doing. Either they were ambushing them again, and waiting for them to come back out, or they had gone somewhere else on the island. He hoped that they hadn't gone after Malcolm or Sarah.

"I'm not sure what you're getting at…" Tim began.

Guiterrez scoffed to himself as he flicked the light switch in the basement, the strip lights above snapping on with a flash, illuminating the room.

"You've been lying to us since you first asked us to come here. You knew the risks, but you came here anyway!"

"To save lives!" Tim said.

"You told us that the Velociraptors were dead," Anderson said calmly.

"I didn't say that in so many words," Tim said, "I said that we didn't know where they were."

"That's as good as. You didn't seem too surprised to see our little lizard friends."

There was a moment's pause.

"I had an inkling," Tim said finally.

There was a crackle, and Guiterrez heard Wu laugh from the genetics lab. "An inkling? I'm going to say that you've known longer than I have."

"You knew as well?" Guiterrez said, frowning as he looked at the interior of the basement. It was full of shelves and stacks of supplies, doused in cobwebs. It looked to him like a derelict miniature supermarket. He walked forwards slowly, picking up a short round tin, and blew the dust away quickly, lifting his head out of the way of the dust cloud.

_Pork and beans._

"Yummy," he said to himself, putting it back down.

In all, the basement covered the entire area that the lodge did, and to him it looked like it might extend further. The walls were made of thick concrete, and it looked like every space available contained some form of supplies. There were batteries, radios, lights, water, food, fuel canisters, and even medical supplies.

"I didn't know for sure," Wu was saying, bringing him back to the conversation, "But I knew there was something odd going on."

"Okay, so you both lied," Guiterrez said, casting aside a large streak of cobwebs as he strolled down one of the isles. "But that doesn't explain how the Raptors are even still here. You said that you've been scanning the infa-red data from the satellite passes of the island for the last decade, and you haven't seen a trace of the Raptors. So you tell me, genius. How are they still here?"

Tim sighed over the radio, and they heard him still typing in the control room. "By now I think I can say with moderate certainty that the most likely explanation for that is that they use the subterranean tunnel grid to get around. They can move anywhere they want underground undetected."

"Why would the grid keep them off the IR scans?" Anderson said. "EM waves can penetrate that far with reasonable accuracy."

"True," Tim said. "But the tunnels are lined with two feet of concrete for stability."

Guiterrez nodded to himself as he stopped in front of a stack containing soap, and more tins of food. He picked up a bar of soap, nodding to himself and made to turn away, but stopped. His eyes wandered down to the tins of food. He paused for a moment, and then picked one of them up, and read the label, holding it up to the light.

"Spaghetti bolognaise," he read. He licked his lips, and felt the sudden ache of hunger in his stomach. He looked around for an instant, and grabbed two more tins, and took the bundle of supplies back towards the flight of stairs.

"So then, what, they nest underground?" he said into the radio.

"Not necessarily," Tim said. "They can move freely, undetected. But the tunnels would be cold. I'd say that they've been changing their nesting sites periodically over the years above ground somewhere on the island.

"And there was just not enough concentration of IR signatures to filter them out of the background," Anderson said.

"Exactly," Tim said.

Guiterrez shook his head as he emerged in the atrium, the bright light from the chandelier illuminating the dust which had accumulated on his body in the short time that he had been down in the basement.

Guiterrez looked around for a moment in the silence of the lodge, and felt a shiver creep up his spine as he moved silently on the thick carpet towards the small kitchen. He found it just as he had seen it a few minutes before; small, cluttered and utilitarian. He glanced around quickly, and then he spotted a small microwave near the back.

He smiled to himself, and then dropped the bundle on the tabletop. He opened cupboards until he found a few bowls, and he lined them up. Guiterrez opened a few of the cans of spaghetti, and dished it out. It looked pretty good to him; this stuff lasted forever. He put a plate into the microwave, and turned it on. There was a building whir, and the plate began to spin rhythmically under a harsh yellow bulb.

Guiterrez grinned, and turned, heading back into the atrium, and crossed the hallway, towards the bathroom, grabbing the bar of soap on the way out.

He opened the door quickly, and glanced around, and approached the sink, smiling. He ran the tap, and began slowly cleaning his face, looking at his disheveled face in the mirror.

"One thing I still don't understand," Anderson said coldly.

The sound of typing came over the radio, either from Tim in control or from Wu in genetics, or both.

"What's that?" Tim said.

There was a pause, during which time Guiterrez had time to decide that they were all thinking of exactly the same thing.

"What's wrong with Malcolm?" Anderson said slowly.

Guiterrez nodded to himself, scrubbing a patch of blood from his wrists with the thick bar of soap in the running water.

Tim paused for a moment. "What do you mean?" he said casually.

Guiterrez couldn't help but smirk at Tim's outfaced lie; he was pretending that he didn't sense what everybody else did.

"He means," he said into the radio, putting the plug in the sink and running the hot water, filling it up, "Why is he sick?"

"He was bitten by the Dilophosaurs," Tim said simply, "And they're venomous."

"But you said that the antivenin that you gave him counteracts the poison. Shouldn't he be fine by now? It's been over a day."

There was silence for a moment, and Guiterrez twisted the tap, turning off the water, and dipped his face into the water for a moment, and then came up, and rubbed his eyes. The cooling sensation of the water evaporating on his face was soothing, and the feeling of cleanliness was luxurious.

"He also might have had an infection from the wound he sustained from the attack," Tim said in response. His voice was course, as if the conversation annoyed him.

"I've seen his wound," Anderson said, "And seen dozens of infected wounds as well. If he's got one, it's not bad enough to put him down that much, that fast."

Tim responded immediately. "Now that's not true, there are plenty of infectious—"

Tim stopped at his last word, and fell silent for a moment.

"Tim, I wouldn't stall, you owe them answers," Wu said calmly.

Guiterrez frowned. "You seem to know just as much as Murphy does," he said, "So why don't you just tell us all about what's going on Henry?"

"Because," Wu said, "I'm busy."

"Haven't you finished uploading the data yet?" Tim said. "We need to get out of here soon if the San Juan fleet is on the way."

"I have," Wu said, "But I'm uploading some other things too before we leave."

"What?" Anderson said in disbelief.

So that's how it was, Guiterrez thought. All of this death, all of this danger, and they were still treating it like their little island which they owned where there was no threat from their creations. Nevertheless, there was something out of place; the fact that Wu would do that seemed out of character.

"Hey, don't blame me," Wu said, "It was Edgar's idea. Thank him for the stall."

That explained it, Guiterrez thought. There had never been any reason to trust that son of a bitch, and he wasn't about to start now. Why would he care about the data anyway? He didn't have anything to do with the mission at all. He was just tagging along because without them he was lizard food.

"Excuse me gentlemen," Edgar said smoothly, "But I think we've been led off of our conversation's course."

"Thanks, Jack," Tim said, "Thank you very much."

"Don't mention it," Edgar said.

Despite himself, Guiterrez grinned, washing his face.

"Murphy, damn it, stop stalling us. You know what's wrong with Malcolm, and you're going to tell us if I have to come over there and beat it out of you," Anderson said.

"Don't forget that I'm your employer," Tim said warningly.

"Not here, not now," Anderson said. "This is survival, and there is a man in that jungle that might die. And you seem to know what's wrong with him. My suspicion is that you've known for quite some time, actually. And I'd really like it if you'd share it with us."

"I don't see how it helps our situation right now…"

The sound of Anderson's rifle cocking loudly in the radio stopped Tim in his tracks. "Please," Anderson said. "If you don't tell us, and he dies, it's on you."

There was a long silence, during which Guiterrez dipped his hands into the water whilst he waited, forming a pool in his cupped hands. He crouched down towards the sink as he heard Tim take a long sigh, and he slapped the water onto his face lightly.

"Okay," Tim said.

"What is wrong with him?" Anderson said.

Tim inhaled sharply. "Ian Malcolm has the DX Virus," he said.

Guiterrez gripped the sink with his hands, and looked into mirror, staring back at his own face, his eyes full of shock.

Wu typed at the console, finishing the transfer of GAP files onto the second hard drive. It had taken a lot of time, as the files were distributed throughout the system, scattered to aid in their security. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, to stop all of the data being taken at once during the unlikely event of a hack, to give them time to detect it. But in their time constraint, and the threat of the Raptors, it was distasteful.

"How could this happen?" Anderson said over the radio.

"How do you think?" Tim said. "I'd assume that the Dilophosaurs are infected. Most likely to be infected as the low scavengers, as they feed off a lot of carcasses. Dilophosaurs aren't much higher up the food chain. They'd be the next most likely to carry the virus out of the entire population on the island. When they bit him, they transferred the virus."

"But I thought that the virus killed you after a few days," Guiterrez said. "Malcolm started getting sick immediately."

Wu spoke into the radio as he typed. "The first report of the virus we received showed that the effects of the virus took several days to make an appearance, and almost a week to kill the host, yes," he said. "But last week a man was brought into a hospital in Costa Rica; by our estimates he had come into contact with a carcass washed up from one of the islands just a few hours earlier. He was dead within minutes."

"Why so fast?" Edgar said, looking concerned.

"I'd say it would be because the virus mutated into a more deadly strain after it managed to jump species."

"How long does Malcolm have?"

"The virus isn't deadly in all cases, but it all really depends entirely on the individual."

Wu could hear Anderson and Guiterrez bickering and expressing their disapproval about being kept in the dark. But then Anderson stopped them in their tracks.

"The Raptors are back," he shouted over gunfire, "Tim I need you to get on the camera's and pulse the fences!"

"Right," Tim said hurriedly.

In the background of the radio they could hear the sound of gunfire, shouts, and screaming Raptors, coupled with electronic sizzling. Wu felt that at the moment that he had more important work to do. Tim could deal with them and answer their questions. With a twist of his wrist, he flicked the radio off, and continued typing.

"You nearly done?" Edgar said, facing the glass pane, looking down into the hatchery idly.

"Pretty much," Wu said, flicking his wrist.

Edgar nodded behind him, his face out of view.

"How do we get out of here, assuming the Raptors don't come back here?" he said.

Wu turned around, and sighed. "I'd assume that we'd get into the Jeep that Guiterrez and Anderson brought over here, and we'd drive it on over to the Safari Lodge, pick them up. We lay down suppressing fire until we leave the area, at which point I'd predict them to stop chasing us, as this is their territory. I mean, they haven't attacked us before now, and I'm pretty sure they knew we were here. They only came for us once we approached this vicinity. After that, we can go and get Malcolm and Harding from the maintenance road in the jungle. Then we head for the helipad and wait for pickup."

Wu stopped, and stared at Edgar's back, waiting for a reply.

Edgar simply nodded.

"Sounds good; great actually. So good in fact that I think you've done quite enough thinking for all of us."

Wu frowned, but shrugged.

"I haven't done that much really."

"No, really," Edgar said, turning around to face him, "I couldn't have done anything without you."

"What do you mean? You're just tagging along; you've done nothing to aid this expedition."

Edgar smiled. "Well, not yet. But I think that now's my time to shine. Hand me that drive, would you?"

Wu stopped, and inhaled deeply.

He stepped into between Edgar and the data drives, looking at his face. He looked him up and down; he realized that Edgar was a good head taller than he was, and was much younger. And then he saw the pistol glinting in Edgar's hand.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"What are you doing?" he said.

"My job," Edgar said quietly. "Look Doc, there's no harm in it. All I want is the GAP data. You can keep your cure, and nobody has to get hurt. Give me the GAP data, and I'll be on my way."

Wu stared at him for a moment, his stomach flipping over in his abdomen. "Wait," he said, "You can't leave, there's nowhere to go."

"I've got a freighter waiting for me at the Eastern Dock of the island. Once I get there, I'll take our data back to headquarters and goddamn, I'm a rich man."

"You'd have to walk all the way there."

Edgar smirked. "Oh no, I'm taking the Jeep."

Wu's mouth parted as he felt his heart begin to beat faster. "We'll be stranded here. You're going to leave us here?"

Edgar shrugged. "I've seen you guys get out of tighter spots before. Now move Doctor; I need to get out of here before the Raptors stop attacking the lodge."

Wu stood in his way, refusing to move. It was hopeless; there was no way he could stop him from leaving. All he could think of was to stall him. But Edgar wasn't going to wait.

Edgar surged forwards, and gripped Wu's shirt. With a tug of his shoulder, he threw him sideways. Wu felt himself fly bodily through the air, and slam into the large glass paned wall, stars exploding before his eyes. He turned on his feet, looking up at Edgar, who had turned away, and was unclipping the hard drive, and slipping it into his pocket.

Wu groaned, and surged to his feet, running forwards. He crossed the distance within seconds. But before Wu could even raise his fist, Edgar turned around, and raised the pistol to eye level, aiming it at his face. Wu froze, sighing.

Edgar smirked. "Sorry Doc," he said.

With a _crack_ he snapped the pistol upwards and down onto his head. Wu cried out in pain as his knees buckled. A dull blackness descended rapidly over his eyes as he hit the ground, and he lost consciousness.

Guiterrez pulled the spaghetti out of the microwave, frowning, and took a bite. His face cleared for a moment in pleasant surprise as the familiar taste swept through his body. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste for a moment.

He cocked his head; the gunfire had stopped.

"Anderson, are they gone?" he said, heading back into the atrium.

"Just left, a moment ago," said Anderson, sounding confused.

"You hungry?" Guiterrez said, opening the door.

He pulled the heavy wooden door open a crack, and slipped outside into the dying light, descending the small flight of stairs. Anderson stood near the gate, looking out through the trees, his rifle aimed ahead of him.

"Here," Guiterrez said, handing him the plate and a fork. "Tastes pretty good. You need to eat if you're going to be our lookout."

Anderson took the food, and looked down at it for a moment. He inhaled the odor, his eyes closing, and then shrugged, taking a bite.

"Thanks," he said. "You not having any?"

"There's more inside, I'll go cook it in a minute," Guiterrez said, looking around.

The ground on the other side of the fence had been torn up, and he could see dozens of small circular holes in the grass where bullets had impacted the ground. Most noticeable of all was the fence in front of them, which had been bent slightly out of shape, and was beginning to look charred.

"Can you hold them?" he said.

Anderson paused, and then nodded slowly. "As long as we're out of here soon. Two of them are pretty injured now, one might be dead."

"Do you think they'll come back?"

"Probably—"

Anderson stopped as a whooshing sound drifted over to them. They both looked up as the sound of crackling gravel filled their ears. And then, in the distance, the Jeep rolled out along the road, heading away from the visitor centre.

"What the hell?" Guiterrez said.

Anderson cursed. "Son of a bitch," he growled.


	52. Chapter 50: The Coward's Refuge

Chapter 50

**The Coward's Refuge**

Dodgson burst from the jungle, immediately waving his free arm in wide arcs, yelling at the top of his voice. The ocean waves crashed against the shallowly adorned beach, the water drifting up towards the threshold of the jungle, turning most of the sand a dark brown color. In front of him, two hundred meters away, he could see the dying wooden planks which made up the eastern dock of the island. And parked up alongside it, was the freighter.

Dodgson laughed to himself as he trotted towards it, ambling forwards, yelling. Up on the deck he saw several deckhands freeze at the strange sound, looking down into the jungle, scratching their heads.

Dodgson passed an abandoned truck, containing dozens of boxes of supplies, coming into view of the deck.

"Hey!" he shouted, waving his free arm, cradling the egg in its blanket under his other arm, "Over here!"

One of the deckhands spotted him quickly, and he called to the others, pointing avidly down at the periphery of the dock as Dodgson stumbled forwards onto the dock, his footsteps causing the rotting wooden decking beneath him to creak and crumble, pieces of shrapnel falling into the waves below. Looking down through the cracks as he stumbled forwards, he could see the shallow ocean below him, rising and falling rhythmically. He hoped that he didn't fall through; he needed to keep the egg intact if he was going to get anything out of this.

There was a deep electronic whirring, and then the winch holding the docking ramp of the ship slowly crawled downwards, its elongated shadow passing over the wooden planks against the deep orange sky behind it.

Dodgson looked out at the waves as the ramp slammed into the deck with a deep _thud_; as far as he could see there was nothing out there but ocean, for miles. How the other people on this island were intending to leave, he had no idea. But what did it matter? There was no way for them to stop him now; he was about to leave with his prize.

Dodgson began to prepare his explanation for what happened to Edgar. He fell off of the ship maybe. Yes, that would satisfy them. The seas around here got rough quite often, and nobody aboard was paid enough to care about anything going on here. The board wouldn't bother sending any kind of search team or investigation to find his body, and nor would any other kind of governing body; the area around these islands was far too hot in terms of media coverage.

There would be headlines and concern from the public if some company started rooting around with a SAR operation in the vicinity of the InGen islands.

Yes, he thought, he didn't have anything to worry about in explaining Edgar away. He hadn't done any use to him anyway; he had simply been a hindrance from the start, and Dodgson wondered why he had even considered talking him along anyway. He didn't really know anything significant about genetics; he was just his assistant. He should have really put more effort into considering extra personnel to help him out.

But all of that was behind him now; he had his prize. He looked down at his blood soaked shirt, fighting a bout of dizziness, and groaned, shifting the egg in his hands, away from his injury.

He was almost sure that he had broken at least one of his ribs, and his shoulder was starting to swell up quite a bit; it was already difficult to move it around. If he was honest with himself, he considered himself lucky in the scheme of things. He had escaped with surprisingly few injuries.

With a thundering of rotting wooden panels three deckhands came running along the dock towards him, dodging crates and felled, rusting lampposts.

"Are you alright sir?" said the first as they scrambled up to him.

Dodgson nodded slowly, and all over a sudden a fit of exhaustion gripped him, and with a slight exhale he sank to his knees, putting his free hand down onto the plank of the wooden deck to prop himself up.

Two of the deckhands put their hands under his shoulders and lifted him to his feet, and he groaned in pain as he tried to remain his cradled position around the egg, his injured shoulder throbbing.

"Sir?" the deckhand said. "What happened?"

Dodgson's tired mind caught on this question, his thoughts blank, and for a moment he simply stared into the man's eyes, his mouth uttering soundless words.

And then he quickly composed himself, resuming his cold stare, shaking gently free of their assisting grip.

"I'm perfectly fine," he rasped. "Just get me aboard."

They nodded quickly, and began to move him towards the ramp leading onto the deck of the ship. One of them moved to take the egg from Dodgson's grip, but he simply tugged away, muttering something about it being his responsibility. He wouldn't trust these nudities with his egg if it was covered in a foot of bubble wrap.

There was a twitter, and then a deep, hollow call which emanated slowly from the jungle. It was haunting; a reminder of what he had just gone through. It was as if he was standing on the threshold of the island. Any further and he was in mortal peril. He had definitely underestimated this place, and he was determined to never do so again.

But even as he thought this, he realized just how little he feared the island from the safety of the freighter. There was some illusion to the safety of manmade structures when in proximity to these animals.

He expected it came from the idea that animals would never dare to truly attack a human establishment or structure; animals were almost always afraid of humans. But these animals were completely ignorant of this convention.

And it was very dangerous.

"What's that sound?" the third deckhand said, causing the others to stop.

Dodgson became impatient.

"Just birds," he said.

"Birds? They sound like no birds I've ever seen."

One of the men started to move towards the jungle, his expression inquisitive. The other men looked at each other for a moment, and then began to follow him, scratching their head.

"Hey!" Dodgson said, heading for the ramp. "It's just a bird. You want to get trapped in some landslide or get lost in there, be my guest. But this ship if moving out."

The men stopped for a moment, and looked at each other. They simply shrugged, and followed him, muttering between themselves.

Fools, he thought. He made a note to get the entire crew to sign a non-disclosure agreement when they got back. They wouldn't have to pay much to keep these poor simpletons quiet.

Their footsteps reverberated on the copper colored ramp as they ascended it slowly onto the deck. Dodgson breathed in cool, salt air as the ocean breeze brushed against his face up on the elevated surface. It was a wonderful feeling after his time in the jungle, and he stood for a moment to enjoy it.

The deck was a buzz of activity; crew members were running around all over the place, tidying away the straps which had held down the vehicle.

They were getting ready to leave.

That was fine with him, as he needed to get back as soon as possible. If the embryo in the egg hadn't survived the journey through the jungle, or died in transit, it was vital that he get it back to the BioSyn labs as soon as possible.

Dodgson nodded his thanks to the deckhands, and proceeded as quickly as his beaten body would allow him towards the large bulkhead door mounted on the tower leading into the bowels of the ship.

Above him he could see the glass pane windows of the bridge; inside he could see the captain checking instruments. Dodgson hoped he had kept the radio off; it was vital that nobody knew that they were here. But as he passed through the door into blissful air conditioned comfort he saw no sign of radio chatter.

Mounted high on the wall he saw a sign saying '_Bridge'_, pointing right towards a rung of metal grated stairs, leading up around twenty meters through the metal frame of the ship.

He ambled up the stairs slowly, alone on the stairwell. Through the metal grating as his feet, he could see down another forty feet of stairs to the floor of the ship. He could hear a distant, reverberating dripping sound.

He hugged the egg tighter to his chest as he passed up the last flight of stairs, passing through the bulkhead door into the brightly lit bridge, his footsteps deadened on thick carpeting.

Looking out through the glass windows below he could see the golden deck moving sideways in respect to the island; the ship was moving away from the dock out to sea. A deep rumbling from the engines was building, a booming chugging, blocked out by the thick glass and walls of the bridge. The heavy ramp marking the exit of the ship moved upwards with a distant, high pitched whirring sound.

"Ah, Dr. Dodgson; we are on our way back right now," the captain said, looking at him for a moment. He frowned, and moved on the balls of his feet, looking around the room, and then trying to see behind Dodgson. "Mr. Edgar is not with you?"

Dodgson shook his head, drooping his shoulders in make believe, deep sadness.

"There was a very unfortunate incident; there was a landslide, and the vehicle went over the cliff. I barely survived myself, but Edgar died in the fall."

The captain looked at him, wide eyed for a moment. "I'm sorry to hear that, sir. Should we go for his body?" he said, beginning to turn the wheel in his hands.

"No, no," Dodgson said quickly. Too quickly; he coughed, resuming his sorrow voice. "Our cargo requires us to get back to Puerto Cortez as soon as possible," he murmured, patting the egg in his arms. "I'll call for a second team to be dispatched to recover him."

The captain simply nodded in respect. "Of course sir."

Dodgson turned away, a wicked sneer appearing on his face. "Thank you captain," he said through his smile.

They were now at open sea, and he could hear the waves crashing against the hull of the ship as they steamed north-east, towards the mainland of Costa Rica.

Dodgson opened a side door and walked out onto the balcony of the bridge, the wind in his face. For a moment he looked down at the bundle in his hands. He moved the dirty cloth pillow aside, and looked down at the gleaming, reflective surface.

Dodgson's eyes twinkled in the dying light, looking back behind the ship as the craggy outline of Isla Nublar began to disappear below the waves.


	53. Chapter 51: Wrangler

Chapter 51

**Wrangler**

"We haven't heard from them in an age," Malcolm said, stumbling over a vine. Up ahead the light was building; they were once again coming to some sort of clearing. They were dotted all over the place in this part of the jungle, some sort of artificial, small scale deforestation. It was confusing; it gave the impression of coming out into some sort of wide open space, and then there was just more jungle.

"We can't use the radio," Sarah said, pulling him along, sweat running down her face. "We don't know what's around here at this part of the island. And I don't want to alert anything's attention. Or anyone."

The incident with Dodgson was still fresh in their minds; and they hadn't waited around to see what had happened to him. They had run for it after they had put him down; well, running was a relative term in the jungle. And Malcolm's injury was getting worse with all of the exertion that he was being put through.

By now he could barely walk, and it was getting harder by the second to move anywhere, and his leg was beginning to drag along the ground behind him. Sarah was starting to worry that he's lose his leg.

But if they could get back quick enough then they could stop that. They just had to figure out where they were.

As far as she could tell they were less than two miles from the visitor area. As to their exact location, she had no idea. She was far too disorientated to get her bearings; they were out of water, and neither of them had eaten in over a day. Exhausted, and confused, all she could think of now was to keep dragging him forwards, towards the others.

"This place…" Malcolm wheezed for a moment, his head dipping.

Sarah shook him, but he simply mumbled, his body beginning to sag. She stopped with a gasp of exertion, leaning against the thick trunk of a tree to support both of their weight. For a few seconds she gathered her breath, chest heaving in the humid atmosphere.

"Ian," she said. "What's wrong?"

Malcolm whispered something incomprehensible. Sarah closed her eyes, trying to swallow with her dry mouth. Malcolm was still whispering periodically, and after twenty seconds she realized that he was simply repeating the same sentence. With a heave, she leant down, putting her ear near to his mouth. She could feel his weak exhalations tickle her cheek.

"Ian. Are you ok?"

"This place…," he whispered quietly to her.

"What? What about this place?"

"Sarah," he murmured, all emotion devoid from his voice, "This place is death."

Sarah looked at him for a moment, beginning to pull him through a broad leafed frond, and she saw his drooping eyes looking towards the floor, non reactive.

She sighed, and looked up again, and was slightly surprised for a moment, simply staring ahead, her mind trying slowly to make sense of what she saw. She frowned.

Sunlight streamed down through a small gap in the canopy just in front of them, six feet wide. On the other side the jungle began again, just as thick as before. But the gap in the canopy ran on horizontally on her left and right, golden, dying light hitting the ground with ever decreasing intensity. She looked down at the floor, at the ground covered in twigs, and dirt. She looked up at down at the trail; at first thought, it looked very much like a run of the mill game trail, one many that ran throughout the island. It was wide enough for the animals that inhabited the place; it was easily large enough for an animal over ten feet wide to fit through.

But as she turned to follow it west, she began to doubt herself. She edged along tentatively, listening closer at the sounds around her; game trails were prime hunting spots for predators. And it was dusk; Golden hour. They were like seafood platters just waiting to be claimed. Even Malcolm at her side seemed to become more lucid suddenly, more alert. There was a palpable tension surrounding them; she had never felt it elsewhere on the planet. There was something about this place that was more than just a failed experiment. It was as if the natural ambience of the island had been violated, that the spirit of the environment had been tainted by a primeval deity. Through all of the wonders of this island, through all of the mysteries and incredible feats, it was easy to lose sight of a single, unanimously interpreted feeling. This place felt evil.

They edged along the road. Her suspicions nagged at her; this place seemed more like a road to her now. Or at least, it had been a road at some point. It was too straight to be a game trail; game trails followed contours, and moved around territories, zigzagging through forest as they cut through the more easily traversed plant matter. But the road ran for at least quarter of a mile in a straight line before curing off to the right. From here, it was difficult to see properly in the gloom; the foliage and the sky in the distance were blurred into blackness.

Off to their right, a bird squawked; a high pitched, peaceful call. Completely indifferent to the tension which she felt. They could walk around the game trail, and take another hour or so to get to the visitor centre. But by then it would be pitch black, and there was no way she'd go any further once the sun dipped below the sky. Or they could follow the game trail, and risk it.

"A wise man says 'When in doubt, go around'," Malcolm said, edging forwards, pulling at her shoulder, "But in this case, I say that the wise man can kiss my ass."

Sarah tried to smile for a moment, moving forwards with him, slightly crouched in the dying light. They moved forwards quickly, their feet pattering lightly on the ground. In the enclosed space beneath the canopy their footsteps were amplified, the echo coming back to them as a clanking akin to horses trotting along.

"My mother used to get my father to take the rubbish out to the bins every evening, no matter how late it was, whenever he got home from work," Sarah said quietly as they quickly pattered along the mud trails, trying not to snap the twigs which liberally covered the ground. Malcolm eyed her closely as she spoke. "She'd never go out after it started to get dark; she was terrified of darkness. Suppose it's the fear of the unknown that always tried to hold me back from my studies."

She paused for a moment as she saw Malcolm glance at her, his sweaty, pale face slightly amused as they continued moving along the game trail.

"What?" she said, blowing a tendril of hair from in front of her face.

"You're singing in the dark, so I guess it runs in the family," Malcolm said plaintively.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Malcolm shook his head. "Nothing. But the light is closer."

Sarah looked in front of them, breathing heavily. "What light? The sun's going down."

"No," said Malcolm, his leg giving way for a second. "That light."

Rubbing his knee with one hand, and pointing ahead of them with his other, he indicated a fern straight ahead of them. Sarah followed his finger, raising one eyebrow.

Was he high? Had he slipped some morphine without her noticing? He was certainly acting strangely once again. But maybe he was also getting delusional; seeing things.

She didn't say anything, and they continued to move forwards, towards the bend in the road ahead. By her estimates if they followed the road, and there were no obstacles ahead all the way to the control room, they could be there in a little over half an hour.

"Almost there," Malcolm said.

Sarah shook of his comment; she needed to try and keep focused now. They were close, and in their state it would become increasingly easy to lose sight of what they were trying to do.

In the dying light, the golden glow was refracted into a red, globular bubble which played on her left eye. The sun must be getting near to the horizon now; the clouds themselves were beginning to develop shadows, and the blue haze of the sky was now adorned by a pink finish. As they moved forwards the red glow of the light split into two red blobs of hazy light, moving slowly away from each other as they walked. Ian continued to murmur at her side, but she simply ignored him, breathing heavily in the musty heat as she tried desperately to keep them moving, passing momentarily through a thick puddle.

The light was playing tricks on her now. The blobs were constricting; the faster she moved, the faster they shrank, becoming sharper. She blinked, and then paused for a second to rub her eyes, shaking her head. It must be her tired mind fooling her.

"I trust I'm not going crazy then," Malcolm said, looking in the direction of the blobs. Sarah looked again, directly at them now, and then they constricted in size rapidly, their hazy characteristics disappearing rapidly. Sarah frowned as she saw two finite, artificial lights lying further up the road, distorted slightly behind a large frond which stuck out several feet into the road.

Malcolm and Harding looked at each other for a moment, and then moved off, moving faster than ever. Ian gritted his teeth against the pain beside her, but they kept going. She kept her arms ready, muscles tense, in case she had to catch him if he fell. But Malcolm seemed suddenly determined as they ran up towards the frond.

And then the ground in front of her right foot was gone. She pedaled in thin air, arms flailing, and slid forwards spectacularly in the mud. With a splash her foot made contact with ground half a meter down, sinking into deep, wet mud. With a scream of surprise she slammed to the ground, her right foot jammed in place by the suction.

Sarah paused for a moment, rubbing her forehead, and groaning in discomfort as she felt the sensation of rotting vegetation cover her clothing.

Malcolm stood over her, his eyes shielded from view by the low light. "Are you alright?" he said, his voice slightly slurred.

"I'm fine," she said, pushing herself up with her hands.

"I'd offer to help you," Malcolm said, moving off ahead, ambling heavily, "But you'd just pull me over."

Sarah forced herself to her feet, and made to free her foot from the mud, and paused.

"Fuck," she said.

She looked down at her foot, imbedded deeply into a recession in the mud, three feet long. The recession was elliptical in shape at the base, and tapered to three long, claw like appendage shapes at one end. She had seen it before.

It was a Tyrannosaur footprint.

"Shit, shit," she whispered.

If this was Tyrannosaur territory, then they were in trouble. She hoped that they weren't around. She looked up to tell Ian to be quieter, but she saw that he had already moved off quite a distance, and was standing at the frond, peering at the other side.

She mouthed him to be quiet frantically as he called her over, and she ran through the mud, her feet splashing recklessly, and sending arcing sprays of plant matter in every direction. Tyrannosaur footprints followed a parallel path to her own, one for every fen of her steps.

She slid up to him, and staring into his glazed eyes, their chests heaving. For a moment neither of them spoke, and Sarah simply motioned towards one of the footsteps beside them. Malcolm glanced over, and paused for less than a second, before simply nodding at the other side of the frond.

"If this is a mirage, then I'm taking a head dive at the nearest rock," he wheezed.

"What?" Sarah said, and peered over his hand, which held the large lead out of the way.

She gasped.

The two red lights glowed strongly in front of her from a pair of standard issue taillights, attached to a top of the range all-terrain vehicle. For a moment, she simply stared, dumbstruck. And then she laughed. She laughed harder than she could remember as relief flooded through her, and she flung her arms around Malcolm.

"Easy," he wined, moving his leg gingerly out of the way of her prying arms.

She stepped away from him, and observed the vehicle quickly, her eyes wide. She could feel herself shaking as she looked at the open driver's door, the mud caked wheels and the cracked windows. She couldn't see any major damage. She laughed again, moving towards the rear passenger seat.

She pulled it open as Malcolm ambled towards her, and she motioned for him to get inside. He leant against the doorframe, grunting, and Sarah reached down for his uninjured leg. Steadying him with her hands, he slowly lowered himself down, lying across the backseats, on top of a folded map and some odd looking mechanical parts.

"Think this is Dodgson's?" she said breathlessly as she pushed him inside, making sure that the door would close.

Malcolm nodded, and smiled.

"I think things might be looking up for us," he said.

Instantly, his face fell. The hairs on Sarah's neck stood on end as she looked into his eyes; it took a lot to bother Malcolm. But his eyes told her something was about to happen.

"What is it?"

"Listen," he murmured.

She cocked her head, expecting to hear a snarl, or deep, pounding footsteps. But she heard nothing, but the car's engine. Just crickets, and birds, and the steady hum of the vehicle.

Wait. The engine wasn't on. Sarah looked up, further down the road. Her mouth fell open as she saw a pair of headlights shining at them distantly; it was still far enough away that they didn't fall into the pool of light.

She stood up, smiling and waving her arms.

"Over here!" she shouted.

"Sarah!" Ian called. His voice was urgent.

She froze instantly; Ian was never like that. His calm mannerisms were gone. She hurried over to him.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"That isn't anybody we want to meet right now," Malcolm said from his lateral position, motioning her down to the ground urgently.

"Of course it is," she whispered harshly, "They said they'd got a vehicle and that they were looking for us."

Ian surged upwards, stifling a yell of pain, and looked into her eyes. "Sarah, trust me. Hide."

"W-what?"

"Hide!"

Sarah didn't move for a moment, and then with a spastic jerk of her arms she flailed around uselessly, looking for something to cover him. With a glance she saw that the lights would be on them in seconds. There was no time to get Malcolm out and into the forest, so all she could do was throw something on top of him.

Ian grabbed the map, unfolding it quickly, and threw it over his torso. Sarah made a face; she could see the shape of his body, and his legs stuck out. It wasn't convincing at all.

She looked around carefully, her hands clutching at her temples, and then she saw a large blanket lying on the floor of the seat. She leant down desperately, and tore it open, and flung it over him.

With a blinding glare, the lights were suddenly cast over her. Sarah made an autonomous noise of panic, and flung herself down onto the ground, and crawled towards the back of the car.

Slime coated her hands and knees as she flew into a ready, crouching position at the back of the Jeep, where the rear tire had been before. But the metal had been ripped away; the remaining fixings bent and out of shape.

Her heart pounding, she peeked out for a moment, catching a glimpse of turning wheels, and the harsh light emanating from the grille. She launched backwards; it was almost on them, and was going to pass any moment. If she was to remain invisible, she would have to pass around the side as it passed them.

As she rolled silently through the mud around the side of the car, she noticed the approaching vehicle had slowed to a crawl, and passed them very slowly. Sarah tried desperately to stifle the sound of her own breathing as she crept very slowly along the side of the car. She looked up, and her eyes narrowed as she saw the wing mirror of the car above her. It showed a relfection of the cabin of the vehicle passing them. The person inside leaned out of the driver's door slightly, eying the interior of the car with a stony face.

It was Edgar.

She felt anger well up inside her as she rolled once more around to the front of the car to remain hidden, and sat down in the mud as she heard the other vehicle accelerate, heading away from them. She waited for almost a minute, until the sound of the engine had fully dissipated. And then she crawled out from the side of the car, and looked around carefully.

She sighed as she saw the clear road, and then looked up at the sky. It was getting darker by the minute. They had to hurry if they were going to get back.

She ran over to the car door, and flung it open, getting inside, and slamming the door behind her. Malcolm burst from under the covers, sitting up with a stifled groan, looking out of the cracked back window.

"Who was it?" he said quietly.

"Edgar," said Sarah as she twisted the ignition key with a flourish, and the car rumbled to life. She simply sat for a moment; the feeling of safety flooded over her. What they had done without this made her more grateful than she thought possible.

"How did you know?" she said as she checked the dials. They had less than a quarter of a tank of fuel, but more than enough for the journey to the control centre.

"What are the odds of them checking this road? This is way off our route," Malcolm said, lying back down and bracing himself against the forwards seats.

"It's possible that they could have."

"This road also leads to the docks," Malcolm said. "And we know who else wants off this place as soon as possible," Malcolm said.

"You knew he'd turn against us?" Sarah said, looking into the wing mirror beside her, expressions ugly at the thought of the two-faced weasel. Then she looked behind her into the back seats, looking at Ian.

Malcolm looked up at her, and smirked. "I never trust scientists."

"Ouch."

She put the car into gear, and they edged off slowly into the fading light.


End file.
